


Mother, Gaia

by Thisistheend



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Planet, And I didn't take a soils class for nothing, Angst, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I have no chill apparently, I went a little too hard on the worldbuilding, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Themes, Science Fiction, Slow Burn, sorry for the aggressive folk music, thasmin, this is totally what a college degree is used for right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-09-26 11:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17140826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thisistheend/pseuds/Thisistheend
Summary: A sick TARDIS sends the Doctor and her new friends to an alien planet-- Gaia, a nature preserve with a deep spiritual history. It's filled with natural wonders that Yasmin Khan had never dreamed possible, but it's not just the nightly auroras and crystallized mountains that lead her to that conclusion.





	1. Holding Your Space

**Author's Note:**

> **Big Black Car** by Gregory Alan Isakov with the Colorado Symphony Orchestra  
>  **Where I Find You** by Dustin Tebbutt

There is laughter in one moment and darkness in the next. Graham cracks a joke, and Yaz finds herself bent over the TARDIS console in a fit of laughter and tears. The four of them float in space aimlessly; that’s how it’s meant to be. The ship doors open to a brilliant nebula, shining a vast array of colors that Yaz only dreamed of when she was a little girl. The Doctor fiddles with a few dials on the console, pausing only to relish in that moment of bliss. Ryan leans back against one of the crystals that juts out of the floor, its pink glow filling his smile with light. Moments like this make Yaz sit still. Her fingertips trail over the edges of the console, and she can see her own face full of laughter in the reflective gold metal. She looks back to her friend Ryan, seeing tears in his eyes as well. 

“Yaz, your face!” He jeers, pointing at her. That playful spark in his eye is the last thing she sees before the crystals sputter and die. Her friends disappear into the dark, their silhouettes only visible by a dull red glow. Yaz looks toward the door. What little light she can see spills from the universe outside the box. The nebula reaches out to them, a beacon of red flashing amongst the saturated dust clouds. Yaz turns to the Doctor, and they lock eyes with one another. The other woman is locked in time for an instant, her body frozen. Bright hazel eyes wander between the door and her companion. 

“Solar flare. A little too close for comfort,” the Doctor says, looking straight at Yaz, “Close the door for me?”

“Yeah,” Yaz mutters, hurrying towards the red light. She stops at the edge of the door frame, feeling her stomach drop. One more step would send her plummeting into the dark. She shuts her eyes for a brief second, centering her body before gripping the handles of both doors. Her body extends out to that new star in the mist, the point of light getting larger and larger. The universe before her is mesmerizing—that light blooms out in front of her in a mere instant, filling her world red.

“YAZ!” The Doctor cries out, bringing her back to reality. She slams the doors with a bang, shutting out what little light they had left. Frantic footsteps shuffle behind her, and the TARDIS begins to whir and wheeze. The Doctor runs about the console, shaking hands fiddling with the controls.

“Come on, girl, hurry—” the Doctor is cut off as ship reels back at a sudden impact. Yaz hears the time lord shout something in the chaos. Her body hits something hard—she holds head in her hands to fight the throbbing pain. Cold metal presses against her skin. Graham curses about something beside her, but her head still swims from the impact. 

“Oi, that shouldn’t have upset you so much,” the Doctor’s disembodied voice wanders through the dark, “What’s wrong with you?” The Doctor pulls herself up with a heavy sigh. Stained boots wander past the human girl and approach the console. The time lord pull a few levers, and there’s that familiar buzz of the sonic screwdriver before the center crystal begins to emit a soft glow. Yaz could finally see where she landed—pushed under the console itself, wrapped in a fetal position. She quickly crawls out, only to look up at a wide-eyed Doctor. Blonde hair is illuminated pink by the crystal beside her, falling over her face in short strands.

“Yaz! Oh, so sorry about that. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I think so.” The human girl starts to pull herself to her feet, and the Doctor offers a hand. She takes it gratefully, hoisting herself up. “What was that?”

“That was a new star,” the Doctor explains, “And a violently active one at that. Still cooking itself up in that nebula. I shouldn’t have gotten us so close.”

“You can say that again,” Graham complains. He keeps a firm hold on his grandson, who seems to have a hard time finding his footing in the rocking spaceship. The younger man eventually finds his way on his feet, but his body still sways along with the ride. His gaze wanders about the console room, seemingly unable to focus on anything. If the TARDIS doesn’t settle down soon, the poor boy is going to be sick.

“Alright, let’s get out of here,” the Doctor says, pressing a few buttons as she rounds the console. She takes a hold of the large lever in the center, taking a deep breath before pulling it down. The whole room jolts, throwing Yaz against the wall. Her back slams against metal, and she can hear a yelp from the Doctor. This time, there’s no use in trying to spring back onto her feet. They rocket upward, fast, like a bullet shot into the sky. Yaz grips onto the grated floor for dear life. The pressure in her head builds up as the TARDIS gains momentum. It sucks the air out of her lungs, gravitating the ship’s atmosphere toward the shrinking atmosphere in the room. The crystal in the center dims, sputtering back to life a few times before plunging the ship into darkness. The ship heaves and sighs, catapulting them faster and faster through the universe, until it shakes and stutteres and, finally, comes to a screeching halt.

Yaz lets go of her grip on the poles. Her entire world is black, and she feels out in front of her for any sign of reality. When her arms grasp the void, she lets her arms fall back onto—no. The ground dissolved when the lights shut off. In fact, she isn’t even sure if there is a body to support her, now. She can still think, but there is nothing to feel. Her mind floats off somewhere, lost to the universe. Fear overcomes her, though it can’t seize the heart that is no longer there.

A small hum challenges the quiet, an electric drone of some sort. A little song that the TARDIS liked to sing while they were flying through space, a little call back to reality. A soft pink glow appears at the corner of Yaz’s vision. Her fingers are silhouetted by that light, reaching out as her body twisted and turned in the void. A row of tiny crystals flicks on above her, dimly lighting the console room.

And there is the Doctor, floating in midair. Blonde hair hangs in front of her face in short wisps. Her coat billows out into the air, her body in a perpetual state of free-fall. Yaz looks down. She can see the rest of her body, now, slowly floating towards the console. The Doctor holds her hand out, extended towards Yaz. The human is surprised to see her limbs move on their own, and to feel the Doctor’s fingers interlace with hers. Slowly, she feels the heaviness of her body again, despite floating through space. 

“Whoa, zero gravity!” Ryan’s voice echoes through the sleeping TARDIS, “Proper awesome!”

“Doc, are you kidding?” Yaz hears Graham’s voice behind her. She looks over her shoulder to see him holding onto one of the TARDIS walls for dear life, about ten feet in the air. His legs stick out sideways, swaying in the open air. At the other end of the room, Ryan floats towards the ceiling.

“Hang on, I can fix this!” The Doctor reassures them, “Ryan, can you get over here?”

“Wait for it…” Ryan breathes. Just as the palms of his hands press against the ceiling, he launches himself away. Yaz realizes all too soon that he put in far more force than necessary, as he starts flying back towards the floor. He screams out at the two women, desperately reaching out for Yaz’s leg as he rocketed by. Ryan slams against the wall, but he positions his feet squarely against the TARDIS to give himself another launching point. And he’s off again, hurtling straight towards Yaz and the Doctor. Yaz watches him float by, giving the Doctor a tap on the shoulders that sends them both wandering towards the console. And then they’re off, all three of them floating towards the console. For once in her life, Yaz is flying—she gives herself up to the weightlessness of the room, with only the Doctor to guide her. Reaching out her free hand, she firmly grasps the edge of the console, guiding the time lord towards the controls.

“Yes!” the Doctor cheers, letting go of Yaz’s hand. She places both hands on the console, letting her feet dangle in the air. “Good work, team. Give me a moment—” She presses a few buttons, and the TARDIS begins to groan and wheeze. The other crystals flicker and shine a harsh light. Yaz suddenly crashes to the floor, pain searing through her elbow and into her shoulder. She grips her arm hard, gritting her teeth as the throbbing pain begins to wane under her skin. The floor beneath her shudders for a moment, and with one final, mechanical groan, the ship stops moving. Yaz squints her eyes at the blinding light— the crystal in the center is brighter than normal, but the other only emit a faint glow. The console room itself is rather dark, casting shadows as Yaz tries to find her footing. The Doctor springs up in an instant, eyes wide, blonde hair sticking out at all sides. She analyzes the console for a moment before her gaze trails down to Yaz.

“Is everybody alright?” she asks, running over to Yaz’s spot on the floor. Again, Yaz takes the Doctor’s hand, and she’s hoisted back up to her side. For a moment, the human girl caught the alien’s gaze. There was something searching in those hazel eyes, looking to Yaz for answers. The Doctor broke eye contact first, letting her hands fall from Yaz’s frame. Both women turned to Graham, now rising to his feet and holding onto his left shoulder.

“I think so,” Ryan pipes up from behind them. He leans against the console, stretching out his arms. “Did you land it?”

“She landed us somewhere. Turned on the emergency protocols after she took the hit,” the Doctor tells the rest of the team. She leans back, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her coat. Her gaze fixates on the patterns on the ceiling, as if trying to find a missing link. “Poor girl must’ve caught a cold in that junkyard galaxy.”

“Spaceships can’t catch a cold,” Ryan points out. He looks over at Graham, throwing his hands up in the air, “Can they?” His grandfather simply shrugs, still dazed from the impact.

“Where did she land us?” Yaz asks, putting her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket. The Doctor steals a glance at the word ‘she’, then goes back to playing with the dials. She flips a few switches until the holographic screen flickers to life along one section of the wall. The picture is dimmer than usual, and Yaz finds herself approaching the screen for a better look. Slowly, a picture starts to form in the dull light—it looks more like a painting, really. Or one of those Ansel Adams photographs that Yaz saw in a museum in 35th century America. Trees extend into the skyline, covering most of the view. There might be the shadow of a mountain on the edge, but she can’t tell for sure.

“Well, she chose the safest place in this galaxy,” the Doctor speaks. A switch flips from behind her, and the holograph fizzes out. The time lord runs around the console, heading down towards the rest of the TARDIS interior. 

“Wait, are we stuck here?” Graham asks, trailing behind her. There’s a pause, only stifled by the usual TARDIS hum and the quiet patter of rain on the roof. “Doc?”

“Only for a few days!” the cheerful voice comes from below the ship, “She’ll just need to rest up for a bit.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ryan sneers, “I swear, she doesn’t know how to pilot this thing properly.” Laughter bubbles out of Yaz, which causes a bright smile to fill Ryan’s face. She bumps her elbow against his arm playfully, feeling a smirk on her lips.  
“Might not be so bad,” she points out, “You haven’t even gone out yet.”

“Yeah. I could use some fresh air after that mess,” Graham joins in. He walks past the two younger humans, approaching the front door. Yaz follows him out, taking in one last look of the sleeping TARDIS before surrendering herself to the world outside.

An audible gasp escapes Yaz’s lips. Evergreens surround the three of them, giving way to a lush meadow on all sides. The clearing only extends a short distance, with the whirring blue box in the center. Pine-like needles shine blues and grays in the overcast skies. Dark green leaves crunch under Yaz’s boots, giving way to rich soil underneath. A forest sits behind them, giving way to a maze of canyons lies before them. Cracks in the earth twist and turn in a million impossible ways, like a network of roads carved by time. A light drizzle falls from the racing storm clouds above. Yaz looks up, letting the occasional raindrop fall onto her cheeks. The clouds certainly move faster than back home, but it’s peaceful to see them come and go. Graham lets out a sigh, closing his eyes as a gust of wind winds its way through the clearing, warming the back of Yaz’s neck. 

“Whoa,” Ryan stops in his tracks at the TARDIS doors. He starts to take off his jacket, eyes wide at the view in front of them. Yaz realizes how warm it is with her leather jacket on, but she can’t find the will to take it off. She’s frozen, her body temporarily paralyzed by the vast planet under her feet. She takes a few steps forward, her mouth slightly ajar. Hurried footsteps behind her signal the Doctor’s return, and she turns around to see a shaky time lord with three large backpacks at her feet.

“Up for some camping?” the Doctor asks, holding a heavy coat out in a sort of salute. 

“Whoa there,” Graham objects, “We can’t just leave the TARDIS.”

“What, you just want to sit around and wait for her to get better?” Ryan asks. Graham pauses, then shakes his head. A smile spreads across the Doctor’s face, and she walks up to the older man with one of the heavy packs. She carries one of her own over her shoulders; Yaz notices they all have bright tents wrapped on the bottom. Graham heaves it up on his shoulders, stumbling for a moment do to the sheer size of it. The next pack goes to Yaz. She bends her knees, picking up a pack filled to the brim. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too heavy, and sat comfortably on her back despite sticking out at least a foot past her head. 

“You still haven’t told us, Doctor,” Yaz points out, “Where are we?”

“Right! Welcome to Gaia. Or, Mother Gaia. The Preserve. The First Frontier. It’s got loads of names.” The Doctor rambles on, handing the last backpack to Ryan. “The whole planet is protected by galactic law. Great place for exploring. In fact, there’s a ranger station only a few day’s travel away, if we want to find the best hikes.”

“Oh, it’s like Yellowstone!” Graham says, a smile spreading across his face, “Brilliant!” The Doctor chuckles at that, handing the boys two separate coats. Ryan takes a step back at that, holding out his hand.  
“It’s too warm, mate,” Ryan points out. The Doctor shrugs, then thrusts the coat into his hands.

“The weather is unpredictable here, trust me. We’ll all need these.” She starts to hand coats out to all the humans. “You too, Yaz,” she says, throwing a dark blue coat into Yaz’s hands. She throws it into her pack for now, watching the Doctor lock the TARDIS doors before heading off towards the canyons. Yaz begins to tug at the buns on her head, letting them fall to their natural state. She takes up her hair, tying it together in a tight bun in the back. 

It doesn’t take long for everyone to fall in line. The Doctor leads in the front, sonic screwdriver at the ready. Yaz is next, with Ryan behind her and Graham trailing behind. The older man keeps looking behind him, as if expecting someone to rise from the ferns that dot the forest floor. There is nothing but thunder and drizzling rain to greet them, and even the line of trees disappears after half an hour of hiking. Yaz can hardly keep up with the Doctor—there’s a skip in her step that always sends her ahead, leading them along the edge of the meadow that drops off into a steep canyon below. Behind her, Ryan cannot look down; instead, he focuses on the clouds flooded pink by the sunset. Yaz, however, savors the rush of adrenaline that comes with peering over the drop. Just to think, the same river that ran beneath them had carved into that valley for thousands of years. In fact, the water at the bottom was sparkling. The more distance they put between themselves and the TARDIS, the more Yaz notices the reflective shine of the waves, even this far above the water. The human girl picks up her pace, hurrying towards the Doctor and tapping on the edge of her coat. The time lord whips around as Yaz points at the canyon below.

“Doctor, why’s the water like that?”

The Doctor scrunches her face, then her face lights up in excitement. “Oh. Good question! That’s nitrogen, eroding through the canyons.”

Yaz feels her eyebrows furrow at that statement, and a smile forms across the Doctor’s face. She takes Yaz by the shoulder, pulling her towards the front of the line. 

“See, you’re looking in the wrong place,” The Doctor explains, pointing ahead of them, “There’s your answer.” 

There’s a long grassland beyond them, dotted with evergreens here and there. The horizon is blocked by a large mountain range, surrounding most of Yaz’s peripheral vision. Except the mountains reflect what little sunlight comes through the clouds, shining down on it all. Yaz nearly stops in her tracks to take it all in. The mountains seem to greet them, flashing its many facets as they trek toward them. 

“That’s solid nitrogen?” there’s a hint of disbelief in Yaz’s voice, “They look like diamonds.”

“Yeah, mostly. This planet is practically made of frozen nitrogen. Um, sometimes frozen,” the Doctor begins to ramble on, “Well, the core of the planet is very cold, so there’s a lot of solid nitrogen in the tectonics of this place. Gaia doesn’t even need nitrogen-fixing bacteria like Earth. See, if nitrogen-fixers weren’t around in Sheffield, all the ecosystems would fall apart, or worse, but nitrogen is the residual material of the soil here…”

Yaz tries to follow as best she can, but when the Doctor’s lecture inevitably goes beyond her understanding, she lets it fall into the background like white noise. She notices the way the Doctor’s nose crinkles when she gets stuck on a concept, or the light that enters her eyes when she makes a concluding point. Her words turn into a soft lullaby, singing through these alien canyons. Occasionally, the Doctor looks back at the line of trees that mark the forest, or glance over Yaz’s features. It’s at this time she can see the other woman falter, even in a split second in time, but she’ll jump right back into her energetic self again. Yaz never wants to leave this moment, guarded by crystallized mountains.


	2. When the Moon's Glowing Bright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Sleep on the Floor** by the Lumineers _(Yasmin's Theme)_  
>  **Ghost on the Shore** by Lord Huron  
>  **Amsterdam** by Gregory Alan Isakov

“Yaz. Wake up.”

Yaz’s eyelids flutter open. Flame illuminates her world a bright orange, causing shadows to dance along the tents across the makeshift campfire. Small plumes of smoke rise from the fire, and the twisting flames warm Yaz from afar. She expects to hear the familiar hum of the TARDIS—it’s replaced with the chirping of some alien insect, hidden in long strands of grass. Right, they had set up camp a few hours before, just as the first moon entered the sky. She remembers igniting a match to start that flame, and Ryan complaining that the Doctor wouldn’t let him chop down any branches for the kindling. Leave no trace, and all that. Graham had been grumbling about setting up those tents just as Yaz began to feel herself drift off. Now both tents sat erect, and Graham’s familiar snores can be heard from one of them. Ryan is the last thing that Yaz can remember from that evening, retelling old memories of primary school. The sky behind him was a swirl of pink and orange, now pitch black. He spoke over the hum of the alien crickets, telling the Doctor about all kinds of trouble that Yaz was known to get into. In fact, there’s a large blanket wrapped around her shoulders, one that definitely wasn’t there when she drifted off before.

“Yaz?” 

Shaken back to reality, Yaz looks up at the familiar voice. Only then does she realize that she’s leaning against the Doctor, her head resting on the other woman’s shoulder. Large hazel eyes study her now, welcoming Yaz into another universe entirely. The human girl jumps back, righting herself. The chilly night air greets her, and she realizes all too late that the Doctor’s body warmth was what was keeping her warm. She clutches the blanket around her shoulders, only to recognize the feeling of that soft fabric through her fingers. Sure enough, the Doctor’s coat is draped around her, its rainbow trim falling into the soft ground below. It even smells like her, though that can vary from one adventure to the next. Yaz looks back at the Doctor, seeing worry plastered all over the other woman’s face. She wears only her rainbow shirt and suspenders, despite the chilling wind. Yaz opens her mouth to speak, only finding a stutter form on her lips. The Doctor furrows her eyebrows before she tries again.

“Um, sorry,” Yaz shakes her head, “You just scared me, Doctor. You could’ve woken me sooner.”

“Oh, s’alright,” the Doctor says, offering a thin smile, “You seemed tired. And I wanted to stay up for this, anyways. Look!”

The Doctor points up at the sky, her round eyes bright and alive. She is fixated on the universe, her gaze stretching out across the stars. Above them, brilliant streaks of green and blue shimmer across the visible sky. The overcast clouds that hung over them only hours before have disappeared, replaced by an array of dancing colors. Four moons hang over them, now, splayed out across the constellations. It’s as if these four entities are guarding the planet, spilling that light into the sky. Yaz’s eyes grow wide; she leans back on her outstretched hands to take it all in. Even the mountains glimmer, reflecting the green light of that alien sky.

“Wow. I’ve always wanted to see an aurora,” Yaz breathes. She turns to the Doctor. Flames illuminate the time lord’s face, but the dying embers aren’t enough to keep them warm. Focusing on the clouds of breath she makes at every exhale, Yaz realizes that she is shivering. 

“Well, the local sun has more solar flares than yours. Gaia gets them every night, practically. And the TARDIS landed us farther north, I think,” the Doctor explains. At the mention of her spaceship, the time lord looks back at the path they’ve travelled, now only shadows in the grass. Beyond that is the forest, and the little blue box they call home. The Doctor crosses her arms, then lets them fall to her side. Yaz realizes that her hands are trembling, no—shivering. Her eyes dart about each moon, taking in the dancing lights. Before Yaz can think, she drapes an arm over the time lord’s shoulders, nestling her head into the curve of her neck. The Doctor stiffens for a moment, frozen in uncertainty. Both women look up at the sky for answers and find nothing. Yaz breaks the pause, rubbing the Doctor’s arm to warm her up. At that, she feels the Doctor’s muscles begin to relax. 

“You don’t like being away from the TARDIS,” Yaz makes a matter-of-fact statement. The Doctor sighs at that, never letting her gaze leave the stars. 

“No. Not really,” the Doctor laughs to herself, “Seems like I’ve been misplacing her a lot, lately. Maybe I rely on her too much.”

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

“No?”

“Well, it’s your home, right?” Yaz points out, “I mean, I still feel strange, being away from Sheffield. But I still love travelling with you.” The Doctor smiles at that, looking down at her hands. The time lord sits cross-legged, arms resting on her calves. Her gaze is distant, as if she’s living in another time. Her pupils reflect the green of the night sky, dancing along with the lights above her.

“She was all I had, before you lot,” she speaks softly, “She was the only constant presence in all these years. Stuck with me through everything I lost.” She looks down at Yaz, and the human girl finds herself mesmerized in those hazel eyes, “Everyone. In the end, it’ll just be her and me at the end of time.”

“You’re talking about your family, aren’t you?” Yaz says, lifting her head up to face the Doctor, “The ones you said you lost.” They lock eyes with one another, and neither woman can look away. The Doctor’s hands still tremble, but Yaz has a feeling that she isn’t shivering.

“Yeah, sort of,” the Doctor explains, “When you’re as old as me, you have lots of families.” The time lord is the first to break eye contact, glancing back at the aurora. Yaz leans her head into her shoulder again, watching the streaks of light shift and turn with time. After a period of quiet, the Doctor speaks up again, “Anyway, I don’t mean to sour the mood. Look at you, it’s your first aurora!” There’s something in the Doctor’s face that hides from her, running away into the dark. A spreading smile takes its place, and there’s a familiar excitement in her expression. Yaz looks back at the light show playing out in the sky, shaking her head.

“There’s nothing wrong with talking, you know,” Yaz reassures her, speaking out into the universe above them. The smile on the Doctor’s face drops, and for a moment, Yaz can see the woman behind a mask. There’s sorrow written in her face, a sort of hunger in her eyes as she looks across the stars. 

“Yeah, I suppose.” The Doctor leans her cheek against the top of Yaz’s head, never failing to look at the sky. A thousand stars shine down on them, adding depth to the shimmering aurora. 

“You know, I’ve seen this a million times in a thousand different places, but it’s still wonderful,” the Doctor breathes, “I just… I never want to miss it.”

“Me neither,” Yaz sighs. 

~~~

A shout rings out in the frigid night. Yaz is up in an instant, sitting up from her sleeping bag, her spine erect. A deep cold instantly takes hold of her. She takes a deep breath, the frozen atmosphere turning her throat to ice. The yell echoes and dies, dissipating in the wind that batters their tent. The flap flies with the storm, revealing white streaks of snow outside. The Doctor was right—the weather can change here at any given moment. Yaz reaches for her large winter coat beside her, only to feel something hard and smooth. Something that wasn’t there before. Something that makes her freeze on the spot.

Slowly, she fishes the flashlight out of her jacket, never letting go of her grasp on the object. It almost feels like a stone, from the way her fingers tremble against it. She fiddles for the button until light fills the tent. The Doctor stirs in her sleep only a few feet away but doesn’t seem to wake. Yaz holds her breath, pointing the flashlight toward whatever she holds in her hand. It looks like a small rock, with bits of moss hanging off the sides. In fact, there are several rocks littered about the tarp, some sitting comfortably on Yaz’s winter coat. Just as she rubs her finger against the one in the palm of her hand, a claw extends from its side. And then there are four pairs of beady black eyes, looking up at her. Yaz lets out a little yelp, her hand detracting instinctively. She drops the little rock creature beside her sleeping bag, and it scuttles off into the dark.

“Doctor….?” Yaz mutters. Looking in front of her, she notices several of the rocks littering both of their sleeping bags. Some of them stir, one of them wandering up her leg and onto her torso. She wants to shake the time lord awake, but she can’t risk frightening this alien species, either. For all she knows, it could be poisonous, or worse. The Doctor’s chest rises and falls gently, strangely devoid of the odd rocks.

“THEY’RE IN MY BED!” that familiar shout rings out again. Yaz recognizes Ryan’s voice again, cracking under his fear. That makes the Doctor’s eyelids fly open, but before she gets the chance to sit up, Yaz presses her free hand onto her collarbones. The Doctor gets the message, lying flat against the floor. Her breathing is ragged, her chest rising and falling against the palm of Yaz’s hand. Her short hair spills across the floor, wide eyes searching the human girl’s face for answers. 

“That was Ryan,” the Doctor whispers. Yaz nods to her, her hand still planted on the Doctor’s chest. 

“No sudden moves,” Yaz commands, “There’s something in here, look.” She moves her flashlight across the tent, and the Doctor’s eyes light up. A few of the crab-like creatures begin to crawl along the Doctor’s boots that sit in the corner. Yaz lets go of the Doctor, settling herself back into her sleeping bag.

“Oh, that’s exciting,” the Doctor says, “Let me just…” The Doctor’s voice falters as she strains herself, pulling her arm out of her sleeping bag. She reaches out for her coat pocket beside her, letting her arm brush against one of the aliens. It doesn’t take long for her to fish out her sonic screwdriver; she toys with it for a moment before that familiar yellow glow sputters to life. Instead of its usual hum, it emits a loud blare against the silence. Yaz covers her ears, hunkering down into her sleeping bag. More screams and curses are flung about by the boys in the other tent. But sure enough, the little crab-like creatures make a hasty retreat, dozens of them scuttling across the floor and disappearing behind the tent flap. The Doctor keeps the sonic on for a few minutes, then promptly shuts it off. An eerie silence falls over the campsite, the once writhing floor now devoid of movement. Yaz rubs her temples; a dull ring still rattles in her head.

“Was that necessary?”

“Afraid so. That should scare them long enough for us to pack up,” the Doctor replies, a smirk forming at the edge of her lips, “Sure scared the boys though, huh?” Yaz can’t help but laugh at that, rising from her sleeping bag to grab her coat. It is large and puffy, a deep burgundy with a furry hood. There is a strange reflective material on the inside that Yaz doesn’t recognize from her time, but she throws the coat on anyways. Warmth fills her skin instantly, and she puts up her hood before opening the tent flap to the world outside.

The world turned white overnight. Yaz can’t see the nitrogen mountains anymore—it’s been consumed by thick clouds overhead. The visibility is so low that she can hardly see the edge of their campsite. Ryan and Graham stand outside, both wearing their heavy coats that the Doctor gave them. Snow spirals around the three humans, covering their shoulders in white. Even the tents blend in with the landscape, snow trailing off into the horizon and mixing with the steady fog. A continuous gust bites at Yaz’s cheeks, cutting into her skin like a knife. 

There was no way of telling where they are, and certainly no way of telling which way the TARDIS is. Yaz takes in a deep sigh, feeling the winter chill cut through her lungs. They have to keep moving, whichever way that might be.

~~~

The Doctor promised the weather would clear up soon, but now, Yaz is not so sure. Graham likes to remind them all that they are in their third hour of walking and haven’t stopped for lunch. It takes more and more energy to trudge through the snow, piling up as time passes. Yaz crosses her arms tight around her chest, shivering hard against that fur coat. The artificial warmth it emanated before they packed up camp dissipated over an hour ago. She can longer feel her toes, soaked by the snow falling into her boots. Her throat burns inside, cut apart by the wind after every breath. She takes quick gulps of air, careful not to take in too much in fear of shattering her icing lungs. A strong gust of wind sends her reeling back, and she has to plant her feet into the snow drift. It’s difficult to distinguish the sky and the surface, but all that Yaz can think of is moving forward. The repetitive walk, right foot and then left, burying themselves into the snow and ice. Eventually, her legs go numb. They work like poltergeists, possessing her body to head deeper into nowhere.

Despite the inevitable numbing of her body, Yaz feels a strange calmness take over her mind. In fact, this was the most peace she has felt in years. Snowflakes float by in a slow dance despite the wailing winds buffeting her coat. They almost seem to stop in time, swirling about her chilled frame before settling beside her waterlogged boots. Her body is screaming, fighting against the cold, but the world is silent. Every step she makes is deafening, the crunch of snow defiant against the quiet. The wind whispers secrets to her that she can hardly comprehend. She focuses on the feeling of her fingers nudging against the edges of her pockets, realizing that her body stopped quaking under all those layers. 

“Ryan…” Yaz hears Graham mumble behind her. It sounds like a thunderstorm rattling in her skull, and it takes all her willpower not to cover her ears. He comes out from the corner of her peripheral vison. He heads off to the left of her, and she nearly collides with the older man. He stops for a moment, looking around, and then heads off ahead of her.

“Doc?” He asks, his voice feeble, “Where’s my grandson? Have you seen him?” Yaz turns to see the Doctor a few feet behind her, trying her best to keep in stride with her companions. She looks around, her gaze locking on something behind them. Yaz glances in the same direction, only to see Ryan on her other side, waving ahead.

“Right… here…” he huffs out. He wears that old yellow beanie, but his eyes are glued to his feet. Yaz can’t blame him— watching her feet move on their own had put her in a hypnotic trance only a couple of hours before. Graham doesn’t even look in the direction of Ryan’s voice. His mind is elsewhere, scanning the ice fields.

“I can’t find him, Doc.” His eyes squint, and Yaz can almost swear she can see the man cry. The Doctor rushes over to him, her silhouette obscured by snow. Graham looks past the time-traveling alien as if she isn’t there. The Doctor grabs his arm, pressing her fingers against his wrist to check for a pulse.

“Oh, this isn’t good,” the Doctor frets, looking out at all three of them, “I’ve got to get you someplace warm.” She looks around frantically, as if the blizzard would offer up an answer. “Oi! Stick close to me, you three! Come on!”

It suddenly occurs to Yaz that she’s stopped dead in her tracks. She stands erect, but she can only feel the clouds of breath that escape from her lips. It’s amazing how she can count on it happening every few seconds. Again, her feet seem to move on her own, guiding her onwards. Ryan walks past her, towards the Doctor, but she continues in the opposite direction. She can keep putting one foot in front of the other, she can get where she needs to go, so long as she doesn’t stop moving…

Suddenly, there’s a change in the monochrome landscape. A dash of red blinks into the horizon, then vanishes along with a gust of wind. And then two of them come back, emitting a soft red glow amongst a sea of white. Her legs pick up the pace, carrying her closer to that red. Anything different from that bitter cold, Yaz is grateful for. There’s a deep rumbling ahead, almost like thunder. The lights seem to get larger and larger, wandering toward her like two strange orbs. It wasn’t far from when the TARDIS crash landed only a day before. Perhaps there were nebulas near this planet, too.

“No, Yaz, you’ve got to stay with us.” A feminine voice comes from behind her. She turns back, only to see the silhouette of a human rushing towards her. The ghost woman clasps her arms on her shoulders, making her shake to the core. 

“What are… how did you…” Yaz feels her voice trail off, and she shuts her eyes for a moment. It takes all the energy in the world to pry them open again, never mind the exhaustion of focusing on the woman in front of her. There’s a familiar look in her eye, a recognizable curve in her smile. The rainbow stripe on her shirt is the first giveaway, hidden under the snow and coats. A dark beanie conceals most of her hair, which sticks out in blonde shoots. 

“Doctor?”

“Hi there, Yaz,” she reassures her, sliding her hands down the human girl’s arms and taking her clammy hands. “You’ve got to come with me and the boys, okay? I’ll figure out a way to get you warm.”

“I have to go,” Yaz insists, pointing towards the direction of the red lights. Her words are slurred, but they get the point across. Both women look out into the blizzard, watching the glaring red approaching them.

“No, you can’t—oh, brilliant,” the Doctor gasps, “Oh. Brilliant, you are, girl.”

The red begins to pulsate, igniting the snowstorm like an open flame. Yasmin Khan’s world starts to wander on its own. It tips one way, sending her back. The wind handles the rest—all it takes is one final gust to bring her down. She feels the snow soften her fall, soaking her hair and freezing her skull. And then winter takes her, sending her to sleep under dazzling red lights.


	3. Shelter As We Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Promise** by Ben Howard  
>  **Stable Song** by Gregory Alan Isakov  
>  **Black Eyes** by Radical Face

Yasmin Khan is filled with light. She fights back against the heaviness in her eyelids, taking it all in. She’s surrounded by white, but it’s a brighter shade than the snow she left behind. She lies out on a mattress with sheets pulled tight underneath her. She still wears the same clothes from when she passed out, besides the new coat. She can feel her fingers curl under the palms of her hands before extending again, but the throbbing in her head remains. The pain wraps around her skull under the glaring light, and she shuts her eyes again. She raises her arms, only to slam her wrist against metal. The impact sends a sharp static through her arm, no longer numbed by the cold. In fact, there is no frigid air to cut through her lungs—instead, there’s a warmth in this new world of light, bringing her senses back to reality. Or, what Yaz can only hope is reality. 

She opens her eyes again, welcomed by a crack in the white. The horizon slowly spreads, opening to a wooden ceiling. White turns to a rusty brown, and the light dims as the façade fades away. Yaz looks down at the bed, seeing the thin white walls of her pod disappearing underneath. Yaz pushes herself up into a sitting position, letting her pillow fall off her pod and onto the floor. The first thing she hears is a familiar, gentle snore, and she takes a deep sigh of relief. Turning towards the noise, she sees Graham in a similar-looking cot beside her, turned to one side. The walls of his pods have disappeared, too. Between their two cots, heavy coats lie in a pile on the floor. Beyond Graham, a third cot lies empty. The pod walls wrap the cot in a tight cocoon, but the viewing window reveals only a flatten pillow and untouched sheets.

They could almost be aboard the Tsuranga again, if not for the medical bay itself. It’s a cabin of some sort, enclosed by wooden walls with no windows to show the outside world. A fireplace sits in the far corner, crackling flames dancing behind transparent glass. A few rocking chairs circle around it, though one is missing to complete the circles. Dents in the green carpet assure Yaz of its disappearance. A few paintings hang on the walls, most of them depicting different forest landscapes. There’s a door in front of Yaz’s cot with intricate designs carved into the wood.

Something stirs beside her, in the corner of her eye. Yaz turns to her left, only to find a sleeping time lord cradled in the misplaced rocking chair. Now it all makes sense—Yaz notices the trail of ruffled carpet that leads to the Doctor’s seat. The wooden armrest presses against the edge of her cot, but it sits still. The Doctor’s arm dangles against the armrest, her hand gliding close to the edge of the sheets. She has a flannel blanket on her lap, with her other hand pulling it closer to her body. Boots dangle out on the other end, heels digging into the carpet. The Doctor still wears her same old coat and striped shirt, and there’s a steady rise and fall in her chest. Yaz has never seen the Doctor in such stillness—that walk through the blizzard must have been hard on them all. Her face is expressionless and soft, her chin pressed against one shoulder, her head leaning against a pillow for support.

Yaz still can’t believe it, that this woman who fell into their lives exists at all. She only met her a few weeks ago, but it feels like they’ve known each other for years. One day, she was training to be a police officer, resolving parking disputes and questioning the legitimacy of the woman filled with golden light that slept on Graham’s sofa. And the next, she was wandering around with a piece of the universe. She had seen whole new galaxies and relics of the past, and there she was with the Doctor again, resting beside her.

There’s a click in front of her cot, and Yaz feels her back stiffen. The knob on the door turns, the door opening to a smiling Ryan. He holds a metal drink holder, filled with four steaming mugs of… something. Behind him is a long hallway, filled with more wooden doors and lavish paintings of the Gaian wilderness. His eyes grow wide as he makes eye contact with the human girl.

“Yaz! It’s about time your pod let you out.” He says, beaming at her. He approaches the side of the bed, pulling up a nearby chair that sat near the door. “You really got the worst of that blizzard, I guess.”

“Are Graham and the Doctor alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, everybody’s alright,” Ryan laughs, looking between the two of them, “Graham’s been sleeping it off. It’s pretty early in the morning, actually. Sunrise? Hard to tell when we’re underground.”

“We’re underground?”

“Yeah. The whole facility is, except for the visitor’s center. And the top’s made of glass so you can see the mountains. It’s pretty amazing.”

“Yeah, sounds like it,” Yaz says. The Doctor stirs somewhat, tipping her head back, so Yaz lowers her voice, “What are you doin’ up so early?”

“Eh, I just can’t sleep.” He nods to the time lord in the rocking chair, her face still peaceful, unaware of their hushed voices. “She wouldn’t leave you on your own, y’know. Wouldn’t even go to the cafeteria unless one of us stayed here with you.”

Yaz shakes her head, whispering to Ryan as her gaze focuses on the sleeping time lord. “I’ve never seen her sleep this much.” 

“Me neither. I bet that blizzard wore her out more than she wants to admit,” Ryan points out. Tiredness shows in the heavy bags under his eyelids, and the way his gaze wanders off as he talks. He takes a mug from the drink carrier, thrusting it towards Yaz. “Want some?”

Yaz sits up straighter, crossing her legs on top of the cot before taking the handle of the mug. Inside is a strange bronze liquid, smelling like roasting pine needles and dirt. She looks back up at Ryan, furrowing her eyebrows. “What is it?”

“No idea.”

Yaz rolls her eyes at Ryan. “Must be safe, then.”

“Hey! I haven’t died, have I?”

“Guess not,” Yaz decides, taking a sip. There’s a nutty taste to it, like almonds and burnt marshmallows, and a spice that burns her tongue. It warms her insides, leaving a sweet aftertaste. A faint smile forms on her lips, and Ryan sets the rest of the drinks on her side table.

“Where’d you get this?”

“Upstairs,” Ryan motions at the door. They are interrupted by a particularly loud snore from Graham, making both younger humans giggle like children. Ryan picks up a cup from the container, carefully walking it over to his sleeping grandfather. He sets it down by the side table, walking back to Yaz’s beside to grab another cup for himself. The rocking chair swings back, making Yaz nearly spill her cup. When she looks up, a pair of round hazel eyes study her, wide and alert. Her gaze locks with the Doctor, who now sits up straight in her rocking chair. The flannel blanket lies in a heap on the floor.

“Yaz is back!” The Doctor cheers, bringing Yaz into a tight hug. Static bristles up her spine as the Doctor pulls her close, but she relaxes into the other woman’s embrace. The time lord is filled with warmth, heating Yaz’s aching muscles. Then the time lord breaks away, and there’s a sinking feeling in Yaz’s chest that she can’t recognize. The human girl situates herself at the foot of her cot, feet dangling on the edge. She reaches for her mug again, taking a sip of the strange liquid that lights a fire in her throat. As she sets her drink down, the Doctor thrusts her sonic screwdriver in her face. Yaz jumps back, leaning back as the pulsating yellow light tracks her face, scanning both eyes.

“Do you feel dizzy? Tired?” the Doctor asks over the hum of the sonic.

“I feel fine,” Yaz insists, swatting the sonic away from her face, “Just a headache.” There’s a bright spot in her vision where the sonic was, pulsating yellow. She shuts her eyes for a moment, rubbing her temples to calm her throbbing headache. The Doctor stuffs her sonic back in her pocket, taking Yaz’s hand. She pulls Yaz forward, but her grip on her wrist is gentle, pressing two fingers against her veins to find a pulse. Hazel eyes wander to the ceiling, seemingly unaware of how close she is to her companion. She counts to herself for a moment, then glances at Ryan.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” the Doctor asks. He takes a step back, two hands holding his mug.

“Whoa, she’s only been up for a bit,” he insists, “And you needed to sleep.”

“Nah, I’m not like you humans, sleeping all day. It gets boring.” She looks toward the metal container with two mugs remaining. She snatches one in an instant, taking a long, savory sip.

“Yeah, I know you like that stuff,” Ryan teases, “The rangers upstairs are starting to recognize me.”

“Oh, don’t go off. We haven’t ordered that many.”

“You had at least six yesterday.”

“Seven.” A gruff voice comes from the corner of the room. All three of them turn around, only to see Graham sitting up in his cot. He rubs his eyes to adjust to the bright florescent lights above them.

“Morning, Graham,” Ryan greets him, “‘Bout time you’re up.”

“Look!” the Doctor pipes up again, putting a hand on Yaz’s shoulder, “Yaz is back!”

“Yeah, I can see that, Doc,” Graham laughs, turning towards the human girl, “You feeling alright?”

“Never better,” Yaz reassures him, sitting up straighter in her bed. Graham nods at that, a thin smile forming on his lips. He pushes himself off the cot, taking his steaming mug from his side table before wandering toward the Doctor’s rocking chair. They all seem to cluster around the time lord and Yaz, huddled together despite the large space in the waiting area. The Doctor sits cross-legged in her chair, rocking back and forth as she sips her drink. It’s as if the woman doesn’t know how to properly sit in a chair at all, let alone sleep in one. Yaz takes a deep sigh, listening to the soft crackling of the fireplace and her friends’ bickering. 

“How long were we out?” she asks as other three seem to calm down. Ryan gives his grandfather a nervous glance, but the Doctor is the one to speak first.

“Two days,” the Doctor tells her, “We got lucky that there was a patrol out that night. The rangers said they don’t usually go out to that side of those canyons. If you hadn’t have spotted them…” the Doctor’s voice trails off, and she looks deep into the swirling liquid bronze in her cup.

“Don’t talk like that, Doc,” Graham reassures her, “We survived, didn’t we? You’re alive right now.”

“It’s not that,” the Doctor explains, “I would’ve been fine. Us time lords do better in the cold.” She looks up at Yaz, hazel eyes brimming with concern. Yaz can’t help but get lost in the other woman’s gaze, feeling all that untold anguish hiding behind the subtleties of her expression. “I just—”

There’s a knock at the door, making all four of them jump at the noise. They look around at each other, as if waiting for one of them to speak first. Graham takes a heavy sigh.

“Come in.”

The wooden door creaks open, and a human-looking woman enters the room. Long brown hair is pulled back into a tight bun, and she wears a flat brim hat, adorned with various decorated pins. Her uniform is like the police ones that Yaz’s superiors wear, but it’s painted in dark greens and browns. There’s a utility belt around her pants, equipped with a pistol of some sort, some tools, and a waterskin. Yaz silently hopes that the Doctor doesn’t notice the gun or doesn’t cause a ruckus about it. Ryan and Graham take a few steps away from the two women, nodding toward the visitor. She briskly walks up to the Doctor’s rocking chair. The time lord pops up in an instant, towering over Yaz as she shakes the visitor’s hand.

“Officer Harris, ma’am. You’re the Doctor, right?” the visitor asks, “You’d be the only one crazy enough to hike through one of those blizzards.”

“Yeah, that’s me, and these are my friends. Real grateful for the rescue, but, well, it’s not like we had much of a choice. My TARDIS crash-landed near the canyons,” the Doctor explains. The officer’s back stiffens, and Yaz notices the insignia on the woman’s uniform. Sewn into her shirt is a pair of inverted triangles, stacked on top of one another like an upside-down tree. Of course. She must be one of the rangers that Ryan mentioned earlier.

“Oh. Sorry, we assumed you came for the millennium celebration,” Officer Harris says, “We’ll get you back to your ship as soon as you’re rested up.”

“Wait, we landed right before the millennium?” the Doctor asks. She jumps up and down, as if shaking off a sudden wave of energy that courses through her, “Oh, that’s wonderful! I always wanted to go to that!”

“What is it, a party?” Graham asks.

“More than that,” Officer Harris tells him, “It’s been a thousand years since the galaxy voted to preserve this planet. Leaders from all over will be here.” The ranger gives a sheepish smile, glancing up at the Doctor, “We’d love to have you all come. Sorry, I… I’ve just heard so many stories about you, ma’am. It’s an honor to meet you in person.”

“Oh! Um, great to meet you too, ma’am!” the Doctor says, “Ma’am. Oh, we can’t both have us callin’ each other ‘ma’am’. No need to call me that, then. I’m never going to get used to it, I swear—” 

“When’s the party?” Yaz asks.

“Three days,” the ranger says, “It’ll be here at the station, too.”

“We could stick around for another three days, right?” Yaz turns to the Doctor, hearing the excitement in her own voice, “Give the TARDIS a break.”

“Oh, you can plan on it,” the Doctor teases her, a warm smile spreading across her face.

“About that,” Officer Harris comes back into the conversation. She crosses her arms, eyebrows furrowed, “That’s why I came to talk to you. We had a bit of a situation come up last week in one of the canyon temples. We want to get it resolved before the celebration, you know, so the guests aren’t up in arms about it. We could use your help, if you’re up for it.”

“’Course we are,” the Doctor took a step towards the ranger, “But I’ll need transport. And maybe one of your fancy hats.” The ranger looks up at her flat brim hat, confusion written all over her face.

“Just transportation. She doesn’t mean anything by the hat,” Ryan insists. The Doctor looks back at her companion, flashing him a look of disappointment. Her nose crinkles in a familiar way that makes Yaz smile.

“Well, we sent a few rangers out on a diplomatic mission,” Officer Harris explains, “Anyway, none of them have reported back. Even their relocation team’s gone missing, and the priesthood doesn’t know what happened.”

“How many are gone?” Yaz asks.

“Five. Two from the original party, three in the relocation team. Took off into the canyons and never came back. No response from their communication systems, either.”

“So, we’re doing some search-and-rescue,” Yaz says, “Real police work. Finally.” Officer Harris gives her a solemn nod, holding her arms behind her back. Something stirs in Yaz’s chest, like the static she felt when she hugged the Doctor. She scans the expressions on her friends’ faces, all of them bright and alert. There’s a spark in the time lord’s eye, the same spark that shows up each time the TARDIS lands, or whenever something doesn’t go to plan. The Doctor’s gaze wanders to her, and Yaz feels heat on her cheeks when the time lord catches her watching her. The Doctor gives a sheepish smile, eyes falling to her feet.


	4. Buried Deep Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Hard Way Home** by Brandi Carlile  
>  **Human** by Daughter  
>  **Don't Wait for Us** by Blow

The aircraft glides through the meadows, blades of grass shuddering beneath it as it skims the ground. Wetlands race by, and Yaz watches huge birds lift off from the ground. They seem to drift in place, long white wings spread into the air. Mountain ranges follow her in the horizon, its many crystal facets glinting in the afternoon sun. It’s hard to imagine that this whole valley was covered in a blanket of snow only a few days before. They have only been traveling for an hour, but it feels as if Yaz had seen so much of this strange little planet.

Sunlight warms the back of her neck, but the rangers helped them pack winter clothes in the back for emergencies. She can’t help but stand at the edge of the aircraft to take it all in. The whole front of the ship is made of solid glass, only about the size of a small room. There’s no pilot—they must have landed far enough into the future for the whole system to be self-driving. A few ATV’s sit in the back of the aircraft; the rangers gave them strict instructions not to walk off-trail, so land vehicles could be necessary if they had to. The aircraft speeds through the landscape, moving from meadow to forest and back into meadow again. After a while, an impressive set of canyons appear in the horizon. Cracks in the earth snake under the ground ahead of them, weaving connections between each other. The Doctor stands against the woven canyons, observing from behind the glass. The sun sits high in the sky, spilling a dappled light into the glass aircraft. Her blonde hair seems to ignite under the brightness. Ryan and Graham aren’t far behind, talking to one another in hushed voices as they watch the world race by. There’s a tension that hangs in the room—an excitement of what mystery lies beyond those canyons stirs within all of them. Yaz walks toward the Doctor, mesmerized by the way her silhouette stands out against the canyons. Her feet step on nothing, and her stomach tightens as grass races under the glass. Yaz swallows hard, taking a few shaky steps toward the front of the aircraft. She stops at the time lord’s side. The other woman says nothing, eyes fixed on something in the distance.

“Do you think the priesthood is up to something?” Yaz asks, breaking the silence.

“They could be,” the Doctor replies, not taking her eyes off the canyons, “This century is… troubled, to say the least. I think—was it two months ago?—the galaxy voted to open up more of Gaia to the public. Including some of the temples, like this one that we’re headed to. It’s a hard transition for the priests.” The Doctor turns to face Yaz, and there’s that swimming feeling in her chest again. “They’re a secretive bunch.”

“So, the place’ll be swarming with tourists?”

“Not yet. Law shouldn’t come into effect for a few months. But I bet the rangers went up there to prepare for it.”

“Oh, great,” Yaz says, slouching her shoulders, “Well, that’s a clear motivation if they’ve been kidnapped. Or worse.”

“We shouldn’t assume things,” the Doctor scolds her, taking a step closer to the human girl, “The priests are good people. Well, mostly. And none of us know what’s going on, not really. These are confusing times for this galaxy, so we give everyone the benefit of the doubt.”

“Alright. But it sounds like these priests can’t adapt to the times,” Yaz sighs, crossing her arms, “Not all that different from home, huh?”

The Doctor smiles at that, her gaze faltering from the horizon. She looks down at Yaz, and there’s that spark in her eye. It’s times like these that Yaz sees who she is—an ancient entity, filled with sorrow and joy and everything in between. There is a mystery in those eyes that masks itself most of the time, leaking out mere moments in time. It’s a mystery that Yaz can’t comprehend with her mere human lifespan.

“Well, that’s great that you two are playing cops, but you’ve lost me,” Graham’s low voice comes from behind them. The two women spin around to see Graham and Ryan approach them. Ryan wobbles a bit as he walks, his eyes glued to the meadow flying underneath him. Graham smiles at the two of them, giving Yaz a subtle nod. “Why’s there a temple here?”

“Oh, there’s loads of creation myths surrounding this old planet,” the Doctor says, adding a little skip in her step as she begins to pace, “Hundreds of religions from across the galaxy say that life started here. Lots of holy folks congregated here over the centuries.” The Doctor turns around, pacing back towards Yaz. Ryan’s eyes widen as the Doctor walks by, and Yaz can’t help but laugh to herself. It’s amazing, how well the Doctor can balance herself as the ground races underneath her.

“Well, there’s another theory,” the Doctor rambles on, scrunching her nose, “That the planet itself is a god. Goddess? You know, ‘Mother Gaia’ and all. But someone proves that wrong in a few thousand years. Now, Earth—” The Doctor freezes, throwing out her arms in a way that makes Yaz jump. A massive grin spreads across the time lord’s face, her eyes focused on something behind her human companion.

“Oh, look at that.”

Yaz turns toward the Doctor’s gaze, only to feel a lump in her throat. They barrel towards the edge of an impressive canyon, stretching several miles. The cliff is a sheer drop of striped rock, an assortment of burnt reds and tans that descend into a raging river below. The aircraft hurtles over the edge before anyone on board has a moment to react. Nothing but glass separates Yaz from plummeting to the ground several hundred yards below. Her stomach drops with the aircraft, and enough pressure builds under her skull to make her grit her teeth. The aircraft drops fast, turning the canyon wall into a blur of red. All four of them scream for their life until it stops hurtling toward the canyon floor. The aircraft shudders like an elevator once it comes within a few feet of the rocky ground. Silence falls over the group, only broken by Yaz’s heavy breathing as she tries to stabilize her heartbeat.

“You alright, son?” she hears Graham’s voice behind her. Ryan sits on the floor, taking his grandfather’s hand. He mumbles his thanks before getting back on his feet. Yaz’s vision blurs, and she shuts her eyes for a moment. The ground could be moving in waves, if she wasn’t aware of the world around her. It takes a few seconds for everything to stop spinning and her stomach to fall back in place. When she opens her eyes again, there are two Doctors in double vision. Four round eyes look back at her, slowly morphing into two. As her vision refocuses, Yaz notices the subtle tug of a smile in the Doctor’s lips, a sort of childlike happiness she’s never seen in anyone else.

“Hey, Yaz,” the Doctor speaks, her voice quiet in a way that makes Yaz’s chest flutter, “This your first canyon, too?”

Yaz looks behind the Doctor, gasping at the sight before her. The canyon towers above them, casting a long shadow over the aircraft. Dozens of hut-like structures are made of rock, woven into the canyon wall, eroded by time. The structures are round and sunken despite being made of rock, striped and stacked in an array of reds and blues like the canyon itself. Hooded figures hurry across walkways that zigzag up into the canyon, with no railing to hold them back from the drop below. The whole temple extends a hundred yards up the wall, hollowed out rock connected by colorful tapestries and wooden bridges where natural ones never formed. Behind her, a raging river roars by, white rapids crashing against the glass. A few hooded priests sit beside the river, chatting amongst themselves. Yaz takes a deep breath and steady herself, taken aback by the sheer beauty of it all.

“It might as well be,” Yaz replies. The Doctor gives her a wide grin. The aircraft shudders, and one of the glass panes drops down, touching the ground like a loading dock. The ground below them glints under the sunlight, showing its many facets that extend in a perfect circle around the aircraft. It clicks in Yaz’s head—solid nitrogen, like the ones in the mountains. The path ahead of them sparkles like diamonds, winding up towards the canyon and stopping at the first bridge that climbs the weathered rock.

“Oh my god,” Ryan breathes, pointing a shaky finger towards the front of the aircraft, “What is that….”

Yaz sees them before Ryan can finish his sentence. Three bipedal creatures saunter towards them, walking beside the crystalline path. Grass crunches under their raptor-like feet, making a variety of insects hop out of the way as they walk. To Yaz, they look like oversized kangaroos. Reddish fur blends into the canyon walls behind them, growing thick along their backs and elvish ears. Their faces resemble a coyote, with a pointed snout and an impressive set of canines. Long tails balance their disproportionate bodies, flicking like a cat as the creature wanders down the field. All three of them are fitted with leather harnesses and saddles, allowing the creature in the front to lead the other two. Two priests sit atop the first one, gripping onto metal poles for balance. As they approach the aircraft, a gruff voice issues a command that makes them halt in their tracks. Gracefully, the first creature sets its front legs on the ground, lowering its back so that blades of grass press against its stomach. Red fur stops at the palms of what resembles human hands, accompanied with two extra fingers. Rough fingerprints and palm lines carve into the creature’s skin, disappearing into the grass. The two monks hop off the creature, approaching the docked aircraft.

“Canyon crawlers!” the Doctor gasps, turning back towards the team, “Oh, I love canyon crawlers. Look at those fuzzy little ears! Never got to meet a proper one before.” She motions to her companions, ushering them towards the nitrogen walkway below. “Come on, come on, team!”

“No, I am not getting any closer to those things,” Graham protests. The Doctor heads out of the aircraft, sauntering off the docking station with a skip in her step. Yaz shrugs her shoulders at the older man before following the Doctor, looking behind her to check on her human friends. Ryan doesn’t take his eyes off the canyon crawlers; he gives his granddad a pat on the back before following Yaz’s lead.

“Seriously?” Graham pouts. Yaz can’t help but giggle as the older man lets out a disgruntled huff from behind them. She watches the two priests approach them, but she can hear Graham’s footsteps follow the rest of the team.

“Doctor, it’s a pleasure to have you here,” the priestess walks up to the time lord, holding out a gloved hand.

“Oh, thanks, love to be of help,” the Doctor pipes up, shaking the woman’s hand, “Never been here before. Amazing. Is that your canyon crawler? Wait, sorry. What do I call you?”

“Mother Fifer,” the priestess answers, “And yes, that’s my—”

“Um, hey there. I’m Father Xen.” A feeble voice comes from beside her. Yaz whips around, greeted by a round pair of eyes. The initial shock of the priest’s face fades away in a moment—Yaz doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to meeting aliens. His eyes take up a quarter of his face, pupils dilated and watching her with a focused intensity. Veins pop out of golden irises, cracking his wide eyes in a million pieces. His robes cover most of his frame, but a shaky hand shows thin, leathery skin clasped to a pronounced bone structure. Deer-like ears sit on the sides of his head, swiveled toward Yaz as he speaks. Yaz glances at Mother Fifer, noticing similar features. Round eyes watch the Doctor as they talk to one another, her bony structure giving her a bird-like appearance.  
“Hi, Yasmin Khan,” Yaz tells him. She shakes his offered hand, then motions to the boys behind her, who keep a safe distance. “These are my friends, Ryan and Graham.”

“Wow,” Father Xen looks out at the three of them, “It must be incredible, travelling with the Doctor. I would be terrified. I’ve never left Gaia before.”

“Oh, it’s not so bad, mate,” Ryan reassures him, “None of us ever left our home planet when we first met her. You get used to the danger.” He steals a quick glance at his grandfather, shrugging his shoulders, “Mostly.”

“You’ve been a priest your whole life?” Yaz asks. The owl-like alien nods his head, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at her.

“Um, I tend the temple, but I’ve been to others,” he murmurs, “This business with the rangers is the most excitement I’ve seen.” He shudders, crossing his arms as he addresses the humans, “Sorry we can’t help much more. We’re taking you to the last place they said they were going, but that’s all we can do. Same place we sent the last recall team, too.”

“Right. Did you see the first group before they headed out on patrol?” Yaz asks, taking a step towards Father Xen. He takes a step back, cocking his head further still. It looks like his neck could break at any second.

“No, but they were heading out to the geysers near the top of the canyon,” he sighs, “Sorry.” His bony frame shivers, taking a few steps back from the group. Large pupils dart between the three of them, and it occurs to Yaz that they are standing over the little alien.  
“It’s alright,” Ryan comforts him, “We’ll take it from there, don’t you worry.” Ryan glances at Yaz. A quick glare from him tells her that she shouldn’t question the young priest any further.

“Come on, gang!” the Doctor calls out to them. Yaz searches for her friend’s disembodied voice, finding the Doctor heaving herself onto the saddle of one of the canyon crawlers.

“Doc, we’re not—”

“Oh, come on, Graham! It’ll be fun,” the Doctor calls out from the back of the resting crawler, “Bet you’ve never ridden one of these before.”

Yaz waves goodbye to Father Xen before heading off towards the resting canyon crawlers. Looking over her shoulder, she sees the alien priest give a good-natured nod out of the corner of her eye. The Doctor holds out a hand as Yaz approaches her, hoisting her up on the leather saddle. The dark leather itself burns at first touch, but she hardly notices. The fluttering in her stomach is more prominent, especially as the Doctor guides her hands around her torso. That drop in the aircraft must have made Yaz uneasy.

“Hang on, this might be a rough ride!” the Doctor tells her, turning her face to meet Yaz. She can feel the rise and fall of the time lord’s chest, and for a moment, the whole planet sits still. That is, until Mother Fifer calls out a command that has the canyon crawlers on their feet. Graham and Ryan must have hopped on another one, because their yelps of surprise ring loud and clear. Yaz can only laugh, feeling the rush of adrenaline as she and the Doctor are hoisted into the air. Mixed into all the noise is the Doctor’s laughter, too, following alongside Yaz in a certain chime that makes the world seem a bit brighter.

~~~

The Doctor mutters to herself, pacing far along the outskirts of a red pool. The canyon crawlers stopped to rest at the edge of the canyon, making it easy for the four of them to dismount. Yaz stands near the edge of the cliff, peering down at the drop below. The temple is far away from here, carved into the canyon at the turn of the nearest bend. They had only been traveling for an hour, but her bones already ache from the long journey. A gentle fog hangs in the sky beyond the maze of canyons, enveloping the massive expanse of forests. Yaz can picture the TARDIS among those pines, waiting for them to come home.

“That doesn’t look natural,” Ryan points out, taking a step towards the pool. The Doctor puts an arm out to stop the young man in his tracks. Muddy water ripples from the center, powered by something deep below the ground.

“Doesn’t look safe either,” the Doctor explains, “Shouldn’t be too different from the ones you got out in Yellowstone, though. Best be careful.” There’s a belching sound from the pool as a spray of brownish-red liquid spits out, emitting a plume of gas. All four of them jump back. The pool rests after that, offering only a few bubbles of steaming liquid. The smell of rotten eggs hits Yaz’s nose. She wanders away from the pool, eyes watering as the sulfuric gas consumes her senses.

“I’ll, erm, check the perimeter,” Yaz mutters, “I won’t be far.”

“Great idea, Yaz,” the Doctor agrees, not taking her eyes off the hot spring. The time lord takes a tentative step forward, sonic screwdriver in hand. The sonic gives out a steady hum as the Doctor scans the geyser, her nose crinkling as she analyzes the results. Yaz heads into the open field, golden blades of grass grazing her knees. Crisp mountain air fills her lungs with every breath. Wind ruffles her hair, black strands flying in front of her face. The sunset should come along in an hour or so, with the first streaks of orange touching the sky. It could almost be cleansing, if she was unaware of the sinister happenings here.

“You think one of them fell in?” Graham’s wonders aloud. There’s another buzz of the sonic, and a heavy sigh from the Doctor.

“Nope. The sonic didn’t pick up on anything human. Just the usual archaea.”

A gentle wind picks up, making the grass shudder underneath the human girl. Rolling hills sigh in the breeze, ruffling up the landscape. Lone pines dot the area, along with stray piles of boulders in the fields. Something makes Yaz look down. A stand of grass sits bent a few feet ahead of her, as if something pressed it into ground. Yaz hurries over, soft grass crunching over her boots. Sure enough, it’s the start of a trail, blades of grass pressed into the dirt in a curved line. Yaz takes a careful step into the manmade trail, eyes on the ground as her boots tread along the pressed line. It’s spotty in some places, filled back by native grasses, but she can always find the path again. The path leads her up the top of the nearest hill, revealing the rest of the landscape as she climbs higher. She looks behind her, seeing her friends gathered around the hot spring that sits far off in the hills. Yaz laughs to herself, watching her three friends swap theories a short distance away. She turned to the opposite side of the hill, facing the trail ahead, only to freeze on the spot.

The makeshift trail winds up to another hill, cutting short at the base of the slope. Flattened grass lies out in a wide area, showing signs of struggle. Bare soil sits in the center of the carnage, glowing red in the dying sunlight. It looks strange—it has a similar red hue to the canyon walls, but it's off by a shade or two. Littered about the hillside are several bodies, humanoid and canyon crawlers alike. Rangers lie limp in the dirt, their uniforms covered in grime. Most of them congregate around the bare soil, but they spread out far across the hillside. Her breath catches in her throat, fresh tears falling down her cheeks. She wipes them away, trying to hide despite being the only one alive on that hill. Yaz reminds herself to breathe, taking a few long exhales before she can find the will to speak again.

“Doctor…?” Yaz calls out into the crisp air. She can’t tear her gaze from the massacre. Sure, she’s seen bodies before—on the job a few times, and especially since she began her time-travelling journeys—but never anything like this. Her head churns, making her world spin and crash. Yaz shuts her eyes for a moment, focusing on the feeling of her boots pressed against the ground. Her mind turns back to sitting in her car in Sheffield, complaining to her coworker about how she needed to see more, do more. She was so bored then, letting silence take over, ready to spring into action at any moment, any call on the radio. Now, she wonders if she wasn’t ready at all.

“Great tracking skills, Yaz,” she hears the Doctor compliment her, “Looks like a fresh trail. Great to have a genuine policewoman on the team. You, know, I once knew—oh. Oh no…”

When Yaz opens her eyes again, the Doctor is by her side. She looks out at the massacre before them, blonde strands of hair blowing across her face. Her usual cheery smile fades away. There’s a solemn look in her eyes, brimming with an emotion that Yaz can’t quite describe. It’s the woman that hides from her sometimes; the one she sees in passing, in the dark. Yaz realizes that she’s seen that face before—in her superiors, the sort of downcast face she sees when they report a shooting or a suicide. There’s no sudden flare of anger, or a newfound grief that passes through her. There’s a quiet silence, a hidden suffering, a deep sorrow of what happens again and again. It is the face of a woman that’s seen too much.

The Doctor turns to Yaz, looking away from the bodies ahead of them. She takes Yaz’s hand, bringing the human girl back to reality.

“I’m so sorry. Are you gonna be alright?” the Doctor asks. Yaz blinks, surprised by the empathy in the Doctor’s voice.

“I’m fine. I’m a genuine policewoman, remember?” Yaz reassures her. She squeezes the time lord’s hand, giving her a weak smile. “What about you?”

The Doctor’s eyes widen, taken aback by Yaz’s words. When you’re someone as legendary as the Doctor, it occurs to her, that question is asked by very few.

“I’m alright. I’m always alright,” the Doctor says, shaking her head, “Come on. Let’s figure out what happened here before the boys have to see this.” The Doctor lets go of Yaz’s hand, letting it fall to her side. Her coat billows in the wind as she heads out into the field, not once looking back. Yaz follows behind her, watching the other woman fish her sonic screwdriver out of her pocket before approaching the first body. The Doctor crouches down, taking her first reading as the sonic burns a brilliant yellow light.

“Look, their faces are sunken in. Don’t touch the body, Yaz.” As the Doctor speaks, Yaz notices the wrinkles in the victim’s arm. Lucky for them, his face lies flat into the earth, looking away from them. Both women squat next to the body, hidden in the grass at the edge of the grisly scene. Most of the body has wasted away, decomposing around the structure of bone. The clothes are untouched, other than bits of red soil from the initial fall into the ground. He lies curled in a ball, as if shielding himself from something.

“Do you think something attacked them? Like… a parasite?” Yaz asks. The Doctor shrugs, continuing to scan the body with her sonic. She stops for a moment, scrunching her nose.

“What?”

“There's no nitrogen in the body, it's just gone,” the Doctor says, “Well, most of it. The sonic’s only picking up uncoiled DNA. No nitrogen components."

“Oh, god. Something sucked it out of him?” Yaz asks. The Doctor gives a solemn nod, continuing her scan with the sonic. It makes sense; the muscles have atrophied too fast for the amount of time the rangers have been gone. Yaz circles around the corpse, only to notice large burn marks on the elbows and knees. Skin is eaten away, turned into goo in the most burned areas. Yaz scans the area around them, noticing a dead canyon crawler a few yards away. The saddle and bridle are clean, but the palms of its hands are burnt away in a similar fashion.

“Doctor, look at that,” Yaz nudges her time lord friend, pointing at the burns, “It looks like he fell into something.”

“Oh, good find,” the Doctor hurries over to her, turning on her sonic again. She scans the scarred elbows, studying the little sonic screwdriver. Her eyes grow wide for a second, and she jumps to her feet. Yaz pulls herself up to meet the other woman’s eyes. The time lord scrunches her face, glancing between the corpse and the sonic.

“Nitrogen-fixing bacteria? Why would there be nitrogen-fixing bacteria?” the Doctor rambles, pacing around the body, “No reason for that to be here at all.”

“You lost me,” Yaz says, “What bacteria?”

“Bacteria that pulls gaseous nitrogen from the atmosphere and brings it into the soil, makes it usable for plants. Life on Earth wouldn’t exist without it. But it’s useless here, there’s already nitrogen compounds in the soil from the residual materials,” the Doctor explains, her eyes lighting up in an instant, “Soil!” The Doctor bounds off, walking toward the edge of the bare plot of soil in the center of the massacre. Yaz hurries along with her, dodging a few bodies that lie in the grass. The Doctor holds her arm out, stopping Yaz from running any further.

“Don’t step in it, Yaz,” the Doctor says. Yaz gives her a quick nod, and the Doctor lets her arm fall to the side. There’s a familiar hum of the sonic as she scans the pile of soil in the center.

“Whatever it is, it’s killing all the plant life around it, too,” the Doctor speculates, “And it looks like the rangers found it.” Yaz looks around at the bodies around her, noticing one ranger’s face peeking out from the dirt. Paths of flattened grass suggest that she drug herself away from the barren soil before passing. Despite the grime on her face, Yaz recognizes the large eyelids that cover most of the head, and long ears that peak out from the sides.

“Doctor, these corpses are all the same species as those priests we met,” Yaz says. There’s silence from the Doctor for a moment, analyzing her sonic. She takes a step back, realization dawning on her.

“Okay, wrong hypothesis,” the Doctor recoils from the dirt, “Not quite nitrogen-fixing in the Earth sense. Definitely related… no. Convergent evolution, maybe?"

“What’s different about it?”  
“It doesn’t fix atmospheric nitrogen,” the Doctor mutters, “It takes nitrogen from organic matter. Like the rangers. Or us.”

“Flesh-eating bacteria,” Yaz sighs, “Great.”

“But how did it get here?” the Doctor frets, pacing a safe distance away in the grass, “It’s only gonna spread, if we don’t stop it somehow. It could wipe out the whole planet—”

“Maybe the hot spring was a distraction,” Yaz realizes out loud.

“You said flesh-eating bacteria, Doc?”

Both women whip around to see Ryan and Graham approaching them. Both lead their canyon crawlers by the bridle, walking along with the boys like frightened birds. The creatures make clicking noises between one another, getting louder as the evening breeze picks up. Ryan and Graham enter the graveyard slowly, their focus jumping from corpse to corpse. Ryan’s crawler stops at the sight of one of his fallen friends, only falling back in line with a tug of the bridle. They stand along the edge of where grass meets bare soil, stained red with dust.

“Oi, you shouldn’t be here! Stay away from the soil!” Yaz calls out to them. She realizes all too soon that she shouldn’t have raised her voice. Ryan’s crawler goes into a state of panic, letting out a droning scream. Graham’s crawler starts to toss its head about, but the older man digs his heels into the grass, keeping a firm hold on the reins. Ryan clings to his crawler’s leather bridle, but the crawler manages to slam its tail straight into Ryan’s torso. He collapses under the impact, his limp body rolling into the bare dirt.

“RYAN!” Graham’s voice booms in the chaos. Yaz’s legs react first, racing her towards the edge of the soil. Luckily, her mind kicks in fast enough to make her halt in her tracks. Instinct takes over as she turns to the Doctor, gripping her shoulders before the other woman can dive into the soil after Ryan. The time lord struggles against Yaz’s grip on her, at first, but then relaxes under her arms. Yaz has an arm wrapped around the Doctor’s torso, feeling two hearts beat frantically against her chest.

“Ryan, get up! Quick!” Graham barks out orders, lifting his grandson up to his feet. There’s a sort of dominating energy in the man that Yaz has never seen before, radiating off him in waves. Graham stands out in the soil, red dust covering his shoes. His eyes grow wide as it dawns on him. Ryan pulls himself up with the help of his grandfather. His eyes are wide, scanning the palms of his hands, caked in dirt.

“No, no, guys, I’m okay,” Ryan mutters, holding his palms to face the team, “Look.”

“Oh my god…” Graham murmurs, still holding a firm grip on his grandson’s arm. Ryan’s hands are smeared in dirt, but otherwise appear normal. Graham seems to realize that he is standing in flesh-eating soil, and he rigorously checks his arms for burns. Finding nothing, he then grabs his grandson’s arms, unscarred and smooth. Ryan mutters to himself, pulling away from his granddad. Graham turns to the Doctor, a wide smile on his face.

“He’s okay! We’re safe, Doc!” the older man cheers. He pulls his grandson into a tight hug, and Yaz swears that she can see her old classmate blush, his eyes darting away from the two women in the grass. Yaz lets out a sigh of relief, letting go of her hold on the Doctor. Shaky laughter comes from both women, but the time lord keeps her distance from the edge of the dirt. Yaz hurries over to the edge, scooping up a handful of the red soil. It sifts through her fingers, falling through her fingertips without a hint of pain under her skin. The Doctor hurries to her side, analyzing it with her sonic before taking a step back.

“Strange. Human DNA compounds must be impossible to break down. Maybe it is related to Earth’s bacteria,” she says, “Probably shouldn’t find out if it likes time lord DNA.” Yaz drops the soil at that, brushing it off her fingers.

“What do you think, Doctor?” Ryan asks, finally rising to his feet. All three humans brush soil off themselves. The Doctor crouches down into the grass, all her attention focused on the deadly soil only a few feet away from her.

“Bacteria designed to kill species native to Gaia, but not humans? Definitely nonnative. It’s attacking the whole evolutionary tree. The whole ecosystem will fall apart.”

“Do you think someone planted it here on purpose?” Yaz asks. The Doctor looks up at her, nodding her head slowly.

“It’s the most likely option, I bet. Like I said, lots of political turmoil right now,” the Doctor sighs, “Someone wants the planet to die. Someone with the knowledge to find bacteria like this, or genetically engineer it…and someone who has access to the planet’s preserved areas.”

“Think they’ll be at the millennium celebration?” Ryan asks. The whole group goes silent, looking over at the young man with red dust on his skin. By all rights, he should be dead. Yaz is grateful for every breath he takes, standing tall in the patch of barren dirt.

“Oh, good. Ten points for Ryan Sinclair,” the Doctor says, a grin spreading across her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, long chapter. Sorry it took so long to post, guys.


	5. Why Do You Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Like Real People Do** by Hozier  
>  **Ends of the Earth** by Lord Huron _(Thasmin Theme)_  
>  **Fourth of July** by Sufjan Stevens

The Doctor fidgets too much. She sits in a chair opposite of Yaz, their knees bumping into one another. She keeps telling her to hold still, but it doesn’t seem to matter. The time lord’s body has a mind of its own, as if it hasn’t synced with her brain yet. Hands sit crossed in her lap, but she taps her fingers against her thigh. Yaz gave up on her eyeliner a while ago—her eyelids flutter at every touch, making it an impossible endeavor. She applies a decent amount of mascara after giving the Doctor several reminders keep her eyes glued to the ceiling. The Doctor forgets on occasion, eyes falling on Yaz as she rambles about Gaian soil chemistry or her adventures in other bizarre worlds. By the time she finishes her eyeshadow, Yaz has gone through half a box of makeup wipes. She sighs, closing the travel-sized palette she bought in the station’s visitor center. She sets in on the old wooden drawer beside them, feeling the tug of a smile pulling at her lips.

“Oh, are we done?” the Doctor asks, tilting her head back at her. Yaz nods to her, not quite meeting her gaze. The Doctor wears a hand-me-down suit like the one she wore when she fell from the sky. A wrinkled button-up shirt seemed too big for her, pulled tight by a black vest and tucked under slacks. The only major difference was the bow tie, deep blue like the TARDIS. Lucky for them, the station was able to lend them some nice outfits for the celebration.

“Does it always take this long?” the timelord asks, round hazel eyes looking up at Yaz. She can only laugh at that, turning her eyes to the floor. 

“No, not really. I don’t usually put this much on,” Yaz reassures her, “I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it, soon. Just takes practice.”

“Is that how you learned?”

“Yeah,” Yaz says, “My mum taught me when I was little.”

“Oh. Okay,” the Doctor says, looking down at her hands. She then scans the dorm around them, her gaze wandering past the bunk bed before settling on the mirror behind Yaz. The human girl looks at their reflection, her and the Doctor dressed for the occasion. Her makeup is far more lavish than the Doctor’s, purple shadow accentuating her eyes. The station offered her a long, dark dress that could only be made from a foreign galaxy like this one. Stardust shimmers in the fabric at every turn, every whisper. They claimed it was old, like something from a thrift store, but Yaz has never seen a dress more beautiful. Both women look in the mirror, but the Doctor’s gaze turns from herself to her human companion. Yaz turns back to face her friend, taking both of her hands from her lap.

“Hey, I’ll teach you sometime, maybe when we get the TARDIS back,” Yaz teases her, “If you can find an excuse for us to go to parties like this more often.” The Doctor’s face lights up after that, and she hops up in her seat. Without letting go of Yaz’s hands, she pulls the human girl up with her. The two women stand alone, cramped in the tiny dorm that the station had offered them. 

“Oh, that would be brilliant. Haven’t been to a party in a long time. Lots of Christmases, plenty of Christmases. Does that count?” The Doctor begins to ramble. Yaz laughs at her, pulling the other woman closer. Warmth fills her cheeks, and she can’t help but look down at the way their hands interlock with one another.

“Sure,” Yaz says, “But we’ve got lots of opportunities, right? That’s what the TARDIS is for. It’s not like we can run out of time.”

The Doctor’s face falls, her bright smile fading at Yaz’s words. Yaz feels something deep and dark ripple through the Doctor like waves. The time lord lets go of her hold on Yaz, stuffing her hands in her pockets. Even with that hint of sadness in her eyes, there’s something that draws Yaz to her. Blonde hair falls across her face in short strands, a gentle tug pulling at her lips as Yaz loses her in deep thought. 

“Yaz, I—” the Doctor starts as her voice falters. The time lord swallows hard, letting silence fall between them before she finds the will to speak again. “I don’t always know if I’m gonna pull through. It’s not always happy endings, with me. You know that, right?” 

“Sure,” Yaz says, blinking at the Doctor. There’s an intensity in the other woman’s eyes that she can’t describe. The Doctor sways her arms back and forth, as if shaking off nerves.

“I mean, traveling with me, it’s dangerous,” she mutters to herself, “Look at what happened to Grace. That’s not a first.”

“I know,” Yaz says, swallowing hard, “But I’m a cop, Doctor. This is what I’m meant to do.” The Doctor nods, stuffing her hands into her pockets. For once, the Doctor doesn’t hide her fear with a cheery smile or a skip in her step. Instead, it swims in her irises, round eyes staring back at her with nothing held back. It scares Yaz, but she can’t find the will to look away.

Three knocks on the door make both women jump. Yaz breaks eye contact with the Doctor, watching the door of their dorm. Yaz feels a shiver down her spine, as if something is crawling under her skin. 

“Come on! We’re gonna be late!” Ryan’s familiar voice is muted the door. Both women let out a sigh of relief, a giggle erupting out of Yaz.

“Be right there!” Yaz calls out, feeling a smile spread across her face. The Doctor is her usual self again, eyes bright and alive at the sound of Ryan’s voice. Yaz holds out her hand to the Doctor, making a fluttering sensation fill her chest.

“Ready?” she asks. The Doctor hesitates for a moment, her hands still stuffed in the pockets of her slacks. She gives the human girl a playful smile, taking her hand.

“Ready.”

~~~

“Remember, whoever we’re looking for knows what they’re doing,” the Doctor says, “So get everybody talking. Soil chemistry, the Gaian ecosystem, genetically-modified bacteria, things like that.”

“I don’t know anything about those sorts of things,” Graham complains, crossing his arms over his gray suit. Ryan stands beside him, his button-up shirt clasped close to his neck by a black tie. He fiddles with his black suspenders, casting nervous glances at the guests who walk by the ballroom entrance.

“Well, sound like a prospective student, then!” the Doctor remarks. Graham grumbles at that, looking up at the glass ceiling above them. The aurora shines down at the guests, igniting the sky with purples and greens. Stars glitter over nitrogen mountains in the horizon, circling the above-ground section of the station. Yaz steps back and forth, watching her dress sparkle like the sky above her.

“I’m getting a drink,” Ryan decides, taking a few steps backwards, “I’ll find some conversation.”

“Alright. Everybody meet back in an hour, somewhere that’s not suspicious. Like… the balcony? Yes? The balcony,” the Doctor decides. Ryan nods at that, disappearing into the crowd of suits and gowns. Graham chuckles to himself, looking down at his shined shoes.  
“I hope he’ll be alright,” Graham seems to talk to himself. His eyes turn to the sky, watching the stars twinkle back.

“’Course he will be,” Yaz responds, making Graham’s gaze whip to her, “He’s lucky to have a granddad like you. Anyone our age would be.” 

A slight smile pulls on Graham’s lips, turning into a toothy grin. He laughs at that, looking at both women, before extending a hand out into the main ballroom ahead of them.

“Happy millennium, eh?” Graham says. Yaz and the Doctor grin at that, following in line as they enter the ballroom. Yaz slips by countless aliens, humanoid or otherwise. Body heat emanates from them all, pressing into her skin as she bumps into strangers. The Doctor’s blonde bob is her only way of keeping track of her group, always several feet ahead of her. She almost loses her a few times, and the lack of space between her and the strangers in the crowd becomes suffocating. She lets go of the game of hide-and-seek after a while, gripping onto the back of the Doctor’s vest to avoid not losing her.

Strange music sings through the ballroom, though Yaz can’t see where it comes from. It sounds droning and long, yet also soft and magical. An iridescent chandelier hangs above them, the lights of the aurora dancing off its surface. Yaz can’t take her eyes off the sky—it’s the same night from their camping adventures, except for the wall sconces that light the ballroom itself. Rain patters against the glass, a light drizzle that almost makes her miss home. The Doctor stops, and Yaz focuses back on the ballroom. Glancing about, she realizes that Graham has disappeared, only to notice him striking up a conversation with a group of rangers by the buffet. The crowed stirs in the center of the room, and Yaz realizes that most of the aliens have started to dance. They step in time to one another, mostly in pairs. For once, Yaz recognizes a custom from Earth: ballroom dancing. She takes her hand off the Doctor’s vest, twiddling with the fabric of her dress.

“Hey, um,” Yaz speaks up, making the Doctor turn to her, “I’ll take the dance floor. I’ll probably blend in well enough.”

“Why’s that?” the Doctor scrunches her nose, head tilted to the side. Hundreds of people dance behind her, moving to the same beat. 

“Well, unless you know how to dance the woman’s part.”

The Doctor smiles at that, offering a hand to Yaz. The music swells with the hammering in Yaz’s heart, and it feels as if the world stops rotating.

“Well, I’ve got you, don’t I?”

Yaz giggles like a little girl, feeling heat on her cheeks. She takes the other woman’s outstretched hand, fingers clasped together. The time lord leads her back into the crowd, weaving in and out of strangers to find a spot close to the center. Her breath turns shallow as the Doctor faces her, settling her hand on Yaz’s hip. She can’t help but notice the way the time lord’s fingers brush against her back. Yaz closes some of the space between them, letting her hand rest on the Doctor’s shoulder. The time lord guides her, following a familiar waltz that Yaz knows. Doubt crashes through Yaz in waves, hoping she won’t misstep or show her nerves. With each pause from Yaz, there’s a teasing smile from the Doctor, her face softening. It’s almost as if the music melds into them, following their footsteps. Yaz remembers learning the waltz for the first time, back in school—there was always a sort of jerkiness to it, in the way the boy would step on her toes or try to twirl her without warning. Dancing was always an uncomfortable weight in her throat, the consuming smell of sweat and hot breath against her neck. Now, she is weightless, gliding along with the woman she trusts so much. Their bodies twist and turn like waves in a river, flowing together in harmony. When the Doctor twirls her, it feels like flying. The Doctor pulls her close, her lips dangerously close to Yaz’s jaw. Their cheeks brush against each other, and Yaz takes the Doctor in—the subtle warmth of her breathing, the timing of her heartbeats, the smell of logs burning in the crisp mountain air.

“See anything suspicious?” the Doctor whispers in her ear, breaking Yaz’s focus. If the Doctor hadn’t said anything, she would still believe that they were the only two people in that ballroom. Yaz looks over the Doctor’s shoulder, scanning the crowd. There are several species that are new to her, alongside humans and members of the same species as the priests. Some eye her as she takes quick glances, others don’t seem bothered by their presence at all. 

“Not yet,” Yaz whispers, “But I’m keeping an eye out.”

“Good,” the Doctor says, sighing into the other girl’s shoulder. A deep shudder goes down Yaz’s spine, and she pulls back. The Doctor locks eyes with her, both of them still swaying to the music. There’s a flash of doubt in the time lord’s eyes, but they never tear away from Yaz. The dark-haired woman is the first to look away, forcing herself to scan the crowd again. She can’t live in her false fantasy, not now. Not while there are lives on the line.

There’s a flash of curly hair that catches Yaz’s eye. It bobs through the crowd, zigzagging around dancers until they pop out of the throng of people. A young woman stands by the bar, turning in a circle to analyze her surroundings. Her eyes are wide, her deerlike ears allowing Yaz to recognize her as a native Gaian. She pulls at her red dress, fidgeting with the fabric. Then, with a quick intake of breath, she heads toward the balcony, her silhouette disappearing into another crowd. Yaz pulls the Doctor close again, letting her chin touch the other woman’s shoulder.

“Doctor,” she whispers into the time lord’s ear, “Get me to the balcony.”

“Not a problem, Yaz,” the Doctor murmurs, looking out at the crowd beyond Yaz’s shoulder, “Did you see someone?”

“A girl. Woman,” Yaz stutters, suddenly aware of the Doctor’s gentle grip on her waist, “She looks upset.”

“Clever girl. Let’s go,” the Doctor chides, causing fireworks in Yaz’s stomach. The Doctor pulls back, guiding Yaz toward the edge of the crowd. She twirls the human girl again, causing laughter to gush out of them. The Doctor brings a new energy to her veins, turning her tentative footsteps into gracious movement and happy skips to the beat. The song closes out, turning to a single, melodramatic note. Yaz can’t help but throw her arms around the Doctor, letting their laughter fill the room until her throat aches. As the music starts up again, the Doctor brings her back into position, and they swing out further. Yaz can see the balcony now, the silhouette of the curly-haired woman shaking under the dancing aurora.

“Um, hello there, Doctor!” A shaky voice breaks through the swelling music. A tap on her shoulder makes Yaz jump. The Doctor stops their dance, and Yaz breaks away from her cradling arms. Standing before them is Father Xen, large eyes looking up at the Doctor. He wears a nice suit that fits around his bony frame. He gives both women a toothy grin. “Glad you could make it here.”

“Father Xen!” the Doctor pipes up in her usual cheery voice, “Oh, we couldn’t miss the millennium! Not in a thousand years, you could say.” Father Xen gives a forced laugh, crossing his arms. Yaz looks to the balcony, watching the curly-haired woman turn away from the railing outside. She glances back at the Doctor, worry brimming in the time lord’s eyes.

“I’d love to discuss your travels,” Father Xen insists, extending an outstretched hand to the Doctor. He turns to Yaz, finally recognizing her presence, “May I…”

“Oh. Yeah. Fine. Of course,” Yaz stutters, looking up at the Doctor, “Will you be okay?”

“Don’t mind me. I’ll meet up with you in a bit,” the Doctor insists, taking Xen’s hand. She mouths ‘go’ to her human friend as he leads her back into the crowd. Yaz heads out to the balcony, slipping away without a word. She takes one look back, picking out the blonde in the crowd. It’s quite the comical sight—Father Xen is a few inches too short, making the Doctor near-impossible to twirl. The Doctor scrunches her nose as he puts a hand on her hip. She has to watch her feet as they begin an otherworldly dance. The way they jerk about almost makes Yaz laugh out loud, but she can’t think of that now. She hurries to the other end of the ballroom, pushing the massive glass doors that open to the outside world.

Cool air hits her skin, making Yaz shiver. A breeze ruffles her dress, and it shimmers like starlight. A few people mill about the balcony, extending out several yards ahead of her. The curly-haired woman leans against the cement railing, which is wrapped in twinkling lights and white ribbons. The nitrogen mountains guard the horizon, reflecting the mixing colors of the aurora. Yaz walks up to the railing, leaning her elbows against the ledge a few feet away. The woman shakes in the wind, her bottom lip trembling. Yaz lets silence consume them, only broken by muted music from the ballroom and the occasional croaking of insects.

“Miss, are you alright?” Yaz asks, feeling her inner police officer come out. The alien woman looks up at her, wide eyes blinking back.

“Y-yes, I’m fine,” the woman tries to assure her. Her fingers tap at the railing, and she crosses her arms as if to hug herself. Yaz shakes her head at that, a smile tugging at her lips.

“I know an anxiety attack when I see one,” Yaz tells her. The woman’s eyes grow wider, and Yaz moves closer to her. “Hey, it’s alright. I saw you running out of the ballroom. Just wanted to check in, see if you needed help.” The alien woman nodded, her wild hair falling across her face in deep curls.

“I’ll be okay,” she assures Yaz, “Promise.” The woman looks out at the crystalline mountains, shutting her eyes for a moment. Another cool breeze passes rustles the grass in the vast meadows beyond the balcony. Yaz gives her a moment of silence before speaking up again.

“Can I ask what’s bothering you?” Yaz asks. The alien woman looks back at her, wide eyes studying the human girl. Yaz swallows hard, probing the other woman. “I’m a good listener. If you need one.”

“Um, I don’t have much to say, really. I spend a lot of time in the backcountry, with my work. I’ve… I’ve never even seen this many people in one place.” She turns to Yaz, holding out a quivering hand, “Name’s Fifer, by the way.”

“Fifer? Like Mother Fifer?” Yaz asks, astonished, “Do you live out in one of those temples, way out in the canyons?”

“Oh, you know her?” Fifer asks, laughing at Yaz’s barrage of questions. “Grew up there. She’s my mother. I ran off to join the rangers, when I was younger. I mean, you’re about the same age I was at the time.” She nods to Yaz, lifting a shaky hand to acknowledge her, “I wanted to learn, I wanted adventure. Mum wasn’t too happy about that.”

“I can imagine,” Yaz says, “I don’t know what my mum would think, if she knew where I was.”

“You haven’t told your family?” Fifer asks her, furrowing her eyebrows, “Did you have a falling out with them?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Yaz insists. She takes a deep sigh, looking up at the twilight sky, “I mean, technically, they don’t even know that I’m gone. I figured I was lucky to even meet the Doctor. It’s my best shot at having anything exciting happening in my life.”

Fifer stiffens at that comment, taking a step back from Yaz, “You’re travelling with the Doctor?”

“Yeah,” Yaz explains, leaning further into the cement railing, “That’s how I know your mum. We found that ranger patrol, a few days back.”

“Oh. I’m, um, I’m sorry you had to see that,” Fifer mutters, looking up at the sky. A blue half moon shines down at them, a watchful eye. A light drizzle coats Yaz’s bare shoulders, but she takes each drop as a moment of bliss.

“It’s alright. I’m a policewoman, back home,” Yaz explains, “It’s part of the job.” She looks over at the alien woman, noticing quick, short clouds of breath expelling from her lips. Her fingers tremble against the railing, but Yaz is sure it isn’t from the cold or the rain.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Yeah, um, fine,” Fifer insists, “I think I need to retire to my dorm for a bit. Get some time on my own before I try this again.” She pushes off from the railing before walking toward the wooden door at the end of the balcony. Yaz knows that the door leads down into the underground tunnels that the rangers call home.

“Fair enough,” Yaz reassures her as the other woman walks past her, “I’ll be around if you need someone to talk to, alright?”

“Thanks,” Fifer calls back, “I’ll keep that in mind.” With that, the woman disappears into the night, shutting the door behind her. A few people wander about the balcony, but in comparison to the packed ballroom, Yaz is left alone. Her gaze wanders to the meadows instead of the crowds. Fireflies flicker in the distance, or some alien that resembles fireflies. This whole world is a dance of lights, Yaz realizes. One of the half-moons starts the show, igniting the dazzling display of twinkling stars and vibrant aurora every night. The other moons circle around her, igniting the ballroom with a soft glow. She can only wonder how many of those star systems have supported her own two feet, or if any of them could be her Sun, still watching over her. All her adventures have been breathtaking and mind-blowing, but nothing compared to her time in that ballroom, holding the Doctor close.

Yaz feels a familiar warmth beside her. The Doctor stands against the railing, one hand placed dangerously close to hers. The time lord sighs, letting the first drops of rain fall on her vest. Her blond hair gets ruffled by the breeze, revealing that golden ear cuff that she always wears. The aurora dances behind her, igniting her features.

“Is she gonna be alright?” the Doctor asks. Yaz nods to her, looking up to face the time lord.

“Just a bit of social anxiety, she’ll be fine,” Yaz says, “She’s Mother Fifer’s daughter, apparently.”

“Interesting,” the Doctor says, looking back at the door where the woman disappeared. She lets the muted conversation from the ballroom fill the air before speaking up again. “Well, it’s almost at the hour and I haven’t gotten anyone to talk. I guess that’s what I get, when everyone knows who I am.” 

“Hey, we’ll figure this out. We always do,” Yaz tells her, moving closer. There’s a moment of panic that seizes her, but her arm acts before her thoughts can stop her. She wraps her arm around the other woman’s torso, looking out into the planet beyond. Nothing is discussed between them, but Yaz’s heart pounds as her fingertips fiddle with the folds of the Doctor’s vest. They sit like that for a while, watching the fireflies in the moonlight. 

“We can go to the rangers, tomorrow,” the Doctor decides, “Basically police, right? I bet you could help them loads.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they could find us a few leads,” Yaz laughs, “And you’d look cute in a ranger hat.”

“Cute?” the Doctor turns to Yaz. There’s a spark in her eye, one that makes Yaz’s stomach flip inside out. “Heh. That’s a new one.”

“Hey, Doc?” Graham’s voice comes from behind them. Both women jump up at the sound. Yaz’s arm flashes away from the Doctor’s waist, keeping a firm grip on the railing with both hands. A blush forms on the Doctor’s cheeks, her eyes wide. Graham stands in the center of the balcony with a good-natured smile on his face. He continues as if nothing happened, making the tenseness in Yaz’s muscles ease.

“Oh, don’t mind me. Just here for the hour, like you said,” he says, looking back at the ballroom, “Ryan’s made too many good friends to be bothered with us.”

“’Course he has,” Yaz says, laughing at that. 

“Hear anything interesting?” the Doctor asks, taking a step away from the railing. Graham shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Eh, some of the rangers gave me a lead, but it’s not much,” Graham says, his shoulders slumped, “There’s a soil researcher here, real good at what she does. Bit of a black sheep, they say. She had the same name as that one lady we met. Dr. Fifer?”

Yaz and the Doctor lock eyes with one another. The time lord’s eyes are wide, fixed on the human girl.

“You sure that was social anxiety?” the Doctor asks. Yaz swallows hard, shaking her head.

“Wait, that woman wasn’t—” Graham starts, approaching the two women. They both bolt to the door, snaking their way between party guests. She slams her body into the door, opening it with a loud bang. The Doctor hurries down the first set of stairs, descending into the underground bunkers. Yaz sprints down behind her, skipping every other step as she plummets down.

“Christ,” Graham mutters behind her. Yaz can hear his thudding footsteps against the stairs above. The Doctor hits the bottom of the stairs first, looking out into the hallway beyond. Yaz lets out a breath of relief; Dr. Fifer stands in the center of the hallway, frozen in her tracks. Wide eyes settle on the Doctor, her long ears lying back against her hair. She holds out her hand, taking a step back.

“Don’t come any closer, Doctor,” she croaks out. Tears stream down her face, her outstretched hand trembling, “Please.”

“What did you do?” the Doctor’s voice is calm, yet there’s a steely tone to it that makes Yaz feel uneasy. Yaz stands beside the time lord, legs bent and ready to spring into action.

“Please, don’t—” 

“You killed all those people, didn’t you?” the Doctor speaks again, clenching her jaw. Dr. Fifer tries to speak but cries out something inaudible. The woman starts to sob, holding a hand on her face. Yaz steps in front of the Doctor, taking a deep breath as she approaches the woman.

“Ma’am, we just want to talk. It’s gonna be—” 

“I didn’t have a choice!” Fifer bursts out, taking a step back, “He needed me…”

“Fifer—”

“Stay away from me!” the alien woman spits out, taking another step back as Yaz steps forward. Both of them stand still, eyeing one another along the hallway.

“Who’s ‘he’?” the Doctor asks, shuffling closer to Yaz. The policewoman looks back at her friends. There’s a cold focus in the Doctor’s expression. Graham stands at the bottom of the stairs, shaking his head. There’s a fear in his eyes that Yaz saw once before, on the bus in Montgomery. 

“I can’t fix this, I’m sorry,” Fifer mutters, “It’s over.” A guttural sob comes out of the alien woman, and she falls to her knees. There’s a flash of red on the strap of her dress, a blinking light that makes Yaz freeze.

“Doctor,” Yaz almost speaks in a whisper. The time lord turns to her, concern written on her face. Yaz swallows hard, focusing on her rapid breathing.

“She has a camera on her dress,” Yaz says, not breaking eye contact with Dr. Fifer. The Doctor’s gaze trails over the alien woman, resting on the blinking red against her collarbone. The air is stifling, as if all the oxygen in the underground bunker was sucked out. The Doctor pulls the sonic out of her pocket, the familiar hum filling the room as she scans the woman in the hallway.

At first, it feels like an earthquake. The floor shudders and squirms under Yaz’s feet, and there’s a long groan that echoes through the hallway. Yaz covers the back of her head as small bits of the ceiling crash a few yards ahead of them. Fallen debris block their view of Dr. Fifer, but Yaz spots the silhouette of a woman bolting down the abandoned hallway. She recognizes the deafening boom of a bomb that rings across the underground, and she falls to the floor. Graham screams something in the chaos, and a heavy body slumps beside her. There’s a scream from the end of the hall, the cracking of walls, and one final groan before her world falls silent, save the ringing in her ears.

Yaz is on her feet in an instant, spinning around to analyze her surroundings. Adrenaline kicks in, her heartbeat racing. The Doctor struggles to pull herself up—she lies on the floor beside where Yaz fell, her vest dirtied and ripped at the edges. There’s a small cut along her jaw, but other than that, the time lord is on her feet and breathing. Graham desperately holds onto the stair’s railing, the ceiling cracking above him. His eyes are wild with fear, looking between Yaz and the hallway behind her. There’s a barrier of debris that blocks the hallway completely—there’s no going that way, now.

“The wall…” Graham speaks in short bursts between breaths, “It fell… she was running…”

“We need to get above ground,” Yaz explains, “Now!” Her police instincts kick in, pushing the Doctor towards the stairway. Before being thrown in front of the human girl, the Doctor clasps her hand. She tugs on Yaz, bringing her toward the staircase. Graham is already gone, turning the corner of the stairway and booking it towards the surface.

“Stay close to me,” the Doctor insists, pulling Yaz up the staircase. Her sonic still whirs ahead of her, and they catch up with Graham in record time. Yaz stumbles up the stairs, watching cracks crawl up the wall behind her. Graham trips against a stair, and Yaz is quick to grab his shirt collar with her free hand and drag him to his feet. The Doctor slams her body against the door, forcing it open. The walls behind Yaz and Graham begin to buckle, the first bits of wood falling under the weight as Yaz runs into the cold night.

Screams assail her ears, making her let go of her friends’ hands. Party guests run about the balcony, hurrying down the stairs that open into a paved trail. Lit torches lead them into the meadow, packed with panicked crowds of people. When Yaz looks up, a heavy lump fills her chest. The glass dome of the ballroom is cracked in a million places, and the room itself is pitch black. People escape through the open doors in droves, shouts and cries taking over the sound of music. 

“RYAN!” Graham shouts into the crowd, making Yaz’s ears ring. He runs off toward the edge of the balcony, looking about the wide meadow with wild eyes. He yells her friend’s name a few more times, then bolts down one of the long staircases into the wilds beyond. 

“Graham—” 

“No time, Yaz,” the Doctor insists, pointing her sonic screwdriver at the capsizing ballroom. It sputters for a moment, then flickers like a firefly.

“Look at that. Tot my sonic to pick up the camera’s signal before she…” the Doctor falters for a moment, then turns to Yaz, “Anyways, it’s leading us to the source.” The Doctor motions to the ballroom. Cracks grow up the glass walls like vines, a silent clock ticking away at the life of the old place. The Doctor turns back to Yaz, putting a cold hand on her shoulder, “We go in, you get the remaining guests out, I follow the signal. Got it?”

“Alright. Hurry!” Yaz pulls at the Doctor’s arm, guiding them straight into the collapsing glass dome. A few people hurry out, but it mostly lies abandoned. Yaz can feel her heartbeat pounding in her throat. The chandelier swings above them, hanging from the ceiling—she knows they don’t have much time. The Doctor takes the lead, dodging shards of broken glass on the floor. Yaz takes the same steps as the Doctor, only to run into her when the time lord stops dead in her tracks. 

“Yaz,” the Doctor’s voice shakes, “Behind you.” The worry in the Doctor’s voice makes her whole body grow cold. Yaz turns her head, only to see the silhouette of a familiar man blocking the door to the balcony. He wears simple robes, brown like the canyon walls they visited only a few days prior. Glass cracks around them, deafening splits in the silence. Father Xen observes both women from afar, holding a detonator in one hand.

“You?” Yaz yells out from the dark, “Stand down!” Her legs almost buckle underneath her, but she holds her ground. Father Xen shakes his head, mournful eyes settling on the time lord.

“I’m sorry, Doctor.” With that, he presses down on the detonator in his hand. One click of a button, and Yaz loses everything. 

A gust of wind makes Yaz look up. The chandelier plummets down, its iridescent jewels coming closer and closer. Yaz dives toward the Doctor, pushing her to the ground as she hears the shattering of glass behind her. Stinging pain rolls up her arm at the sudden impact. Her vision darkens for a moment, but she sits up in an instant. Somehow, the broken glass ceiling still stands tall, protecting the human and the time lord.

“Oh, thank god it wasn’t a bomb,” Yaz breathes. She turns back to the Doctor, seeing the silhouette of her figure crawling towards her. There’s something shaky about her movements, a sort of jerking motion in her limbs that makes her heart sink. Pressing her palm against the ballroom floor, Yaz realizes that there’s something new to the texture, a sort of grittiness that wasn’t there before.

“I think... that was more than just a bomb,” the Doctor chokes out. Yaz crawls forward, trying to get a better look at the time lord. One of the half-moons shines bright from this angle, letting starlight fall on the two of them. A familiar pile of red dirt covers the two of them, dust still sifting in the air from the chandelier’s fall. One look at the Doctor makes Yaz cry out something guttural and incomprehensible. The time lord’s arms are blistered, clothes eaten away to get at the flesh underneath. Her knees are charred, blackened on the skin that first contacted the soil. 

“Guess it likes time lord DNA, eh Yaz?” her voice cracks. She gives a weak smile to the human girl, but she can no longer hide the pain in her eyes. Then, her body begins to slump, her burning arms settling into the red dirt.

“DOCTOR!” 

Yaz falls into the dirt, taking the Doctor into her arms before she can collapse into the dirt. She lies unconscious in her arms, her face cradled into Yaz’s shoulder. All that’s left is the two of them in that ballroom, surrounded by broken glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, long chapter again. Sorry for the long update, folks.


	6. Vagabonds Walk This Suitcase Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Patience** by the Lumineers  
>  **Mountains** by Message to Bears _(Graham's Theme)_  
>  **This Empty Northern Hemisphere** by Gregory Alan Isakov

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this got real angsty real fast. Just a heads up.

The station stands out in the meadows, or what is left of it. The glass caved in a few days ago—Yaz heard the distant rumbling, like a roaring waterfall. Now, it’s nothing more than a pile of rubble and broken glass, a speck in a vast open space. Yaz stands at the edge of camp. The morning breeze ruffles her dark hair, making goosebumps crawl up her arms. She had been cramped for days, jumping from tent to tent, giving humanitarian aid where she can. Behind her, hundreds of tents dot the golden hillside. She stands at the edge of it all, trying to ignore sounds of bustling day-to-day life behind her. She takes in a breath of crisp mountain air, making her whole body feel light. Her bones ache from haul last night—they’ve had to relocate twice, now. The bacteria are spreading fast over the valley, creating a barren landscape of red dust around the hillside of where the station used to be. Despite the destruction in her wake, Yaz can’t look away. Those crystalline mountains comfort her; it’s the only landmark she can trust to stand the test of time. That certainty used to take the shape of a woman, that never-ending spark wandering a transient universe. Now, Yaz can’t bear to look at the makeshift city behind her. A woman lies in one of those tents, alone, clinging to life. She can feel her presence in the back of her head, a heavy weight pressing into the back of her skull.

“Yaz,” Ryan’s voice calls out to her. It’s the only sound that can tear her gaze from those mountains, settling on her old friend with Graham by his side. He showed up amongst the crowds two nights ago, after their first relocation. The boys have been inseparable since, jumping between tents together to deliver food and other essentials. Both of their faces are sunken, the spark of light dimming in their eyes. Graham tries to give her a reassuring smile, despite it all. They are silent statues in a field, dotted amongst the occasional pine that springs out of the grass.

“We’re gonna go see the Doc,” Graham explains, “You coming with us?”

Yaz nods to him, unable to speak. She can’t explain that deep, dark pit in her stomach that grows heavier with each step she makes toward the tent encampment. That wonderful woman is hidden in the crowd of vagabonds, her once ever-present life now wasting away in silence. With someone like the Doctor, Yaz assumed dying would be a bright flash of light, that display of fireworks against the coldness of space on New Year’s Day. 

With a shattered reality, she forces herself forward, walking toward Ryan and Graham. They lead her on, guiding her through the maze of tents and the people that make their home here. Countless rangers wander about, eyes dull and focused on the ground. Some look at the sky. New resources should be here soon, along with the ship that will send the next group of refugees home. It’s the only hope that most folks have here— the promise of home within the coming weeks, knowing that the spaceships that come and go will take them back to comfort. It’s a hope that Yaz can’t hold on to. The TARDIS feels so far away, and without a pilot, they have nowhere to go. She takes a deep breath, her lip trembling. Perhaps the Doctor isn’t the god she took for granted, but she has to stay strong, for her sake.

~~~

“Just give it to me straight. Is she gonna make it out of this?” Graham asks.

Even with death looming over her, the Doctor looks peaceful. Her face is relaxed, her chest rising and falling at a slow rhythm. Yaz presses her hand against the glass of the Doctor’s pod, watching her through the glass. She still wears the same old vest and slacks from the night they danced. The sleeves are ripped and torn away, revealing puffy red skin. The pod heals her burns, but those brilliant eyes haven’t opened for days. It’s like a whole universe closed itself off to sleep away the endless night.

“I don’t know,” the nurse says, taking a deep sigh, “The pod can sustain her vitals for a few more days, but the bacteria growing fast. After that, it’s up to her own immune system. Or her regeneration abilities.” Graham shakes his head, holding his hands against his hips.  
“There has to be something…”

“Unless we find a way to kill these bacteria, I’m afraid not,” the nurse sighs, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Graham says, a somber look in his eyes, “Thanks for everything, truly.” The nurse nods at that, disappearing behind the tent flap and into the grasslands beyond. Yaz knows there are other patients that need her, but part of Yaz pleads for the nurse to stay. Graham saunters toward Yaz, pulling up a chair to sit beside her. Ryan sits on the opposite side of the pod, looking everywhere but the Doctor. His eyes settle on Graham, then fall to the floor. The three of them sit in silence for a while, letting the muted crowd and droning crickets drown out the atmosphere.

“Are you gonna be alright, Yaz?” Graham asks. She jumps at the sound of her name, letting her hand fall against the glass. Yaz stares at the older man for moment, not sure what to say. How could she explain the night it all fell apart? Those wise old eyes hold so much more love than she could comprehend. So much loss, too. Grace died in his arms, after all—this is the second person he’s lost in such a short time. He’s seen this night before, only in a different light. One moment, she’s in her arms, laughing and smiling and twirling about the dance floor, and the next… she’s gone. Burning on the floor. And it was because of someone they trusted, no less. Graham can’t know how that feels, having someone she trusts hurt someone she… no.

“I don’t want to let her go,” Yaz mumbles, “Not yet. Is that selfish?” 

Graham sighs, shifting in his seat. “No,” he says, “Maybe this regeneration thing is normal for her, but… I don’t think she was ready to go yet, either.”

“What makes you say that?” Ryan asks.

“Too young at heart,” Graham sighs, “Don’t care how old she is, nobody should die too young.”

“Like Nan,” Ryan says in a matter-of-fact tone. Graham looks up at him, remorse filling his eyes. Yaz wants to hug the older man next to her, to grab Ryan and pull him out of this makeshift city and far, far away from all this. Instead, she sits in her chair, rocking her body back and forth, watching the Doctor’s peaceful face. There’s a flicker of light in the pod that makes all three of them sit up straighter. Sure enough, the Doctor’s veins emit a soft golden glow, snaking their way up her skin. They swim up her arms, puffy and red from the soil, before fading away like a whisper. 

“We have to try something,” Yaz looks back at the boys, “I—We can’t lose her like this.”

“We’ve got nothing, though. No Doctor, no TARDIS,” Ryan reminds her, “What could we even do? We’re stuck here.”

“Cheer up, son, the TARDIS is still out there,” Graham chimes in. Both younger humans look over at him, eyes wide. The old man’s eyes light up, and he sits forward in his chair. Graham clears his throat, motioning with his hands as he talks, “Do you think the TARDIS could help her? Not that we could get out there on our own, not like last time.”

“I bet we could,” Yaz says, turning to the younger boy, “You made some friends at the party, right Ryan? Meet any rangers?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Think you could convince them to let you borrow an ATV for a while? For tonight?”

Ryan nods his head, a smirk crawling up his face, “I bet I could ask around, yeah. Do you think—” 

The tent flap opens behind them, making all three of them turn towards the entrance of the tent. Yaz immediately recognizes Officer Harris, hair pulled back under that familiar flat-brim hat. It feels like years have passed since the woman first sent them to the temple, but here she stands. Her hat brushes against the ceiling of the tent, and she has to slouch her shoulders to fit inside. A glint of remorse lights her eyes as she scans over the Doctor’s pod. Her hands tremble, and she crosses her arms, clearing her throat.

“They found Xen.” The words hit Yaz hard, making her slouch into her seat. She feels small, like the world around her has grown to be too much. Ryan leans forward in his chair, focused on the ranger.

“What?” Graham asks, jumping to his feet. The ranger takes a step back, putting her hands out to calm them down.

“I don’t—you’re not officially supposed to know, so you didn’t hear it from me,” Officer Harris starts to explain, “A team got him this morning. They’re bringing him in right now, he’ll be held in custody until the next ship arrives—”   
Yaz takes a short glance at Ryan. The two humans make eye contact with one another, and there’s a glint in his eyes that makes Yaz hold her breath. She gives him a short nod, and he nods back in understanding. Before Officer Harris can finish, Ryan is on his feet, barreling past her. He dives towards the tent flap and the world beyond. Yaz lets the Doctor go, following Ryan on his heels as she dashes around Officer Harris. She pushes against the ranger’s shoulder, making her take several steps back.

“Ryan!” Graham calls out. It’s too late now—Ryan and Yaz open the tent flap, bolting into the sights and smells of the refugee camp. The pounding of tent stakes and the smell of meat cooking take over her senses. There’s a shout from Officer Harris, but it gets mixed in with the murmuring crowd. Yaz catches up to Ryan fast, and takes the lead after a few seconds of dodging people and tents alike. Ryan stays on her heels, though he stumbles whenever someone pops up too close beside him. Yaz’s police instincts kick in; she’s been navigating this little city for days, so it isn’t too hard to find the quickest route to the southern-most edge. She halts in her tracks at the last tent before the vast fields begin, holding her arm out to stop Ryan. The ruins of the station sit behind them, almost watching their path. Scanning the meadows, everything seems peaceful—grass blows with the wind, and gentle birdsong wanders through the air. Yaz’s heartbeat pounds in her ears, reminding her of the present. It doesn’t feel like a murderer could wander here, but now, Yaz knows better.

“Out there,” Ryan’s voice is commanding, and he points out a hillside to the west. Sure enough, bobbing heads rise from the grass. Three rangers push a broken man along, his shoulders hunched. His hands are bond by leather in front of him, and his head hanging low. Fear shoots through Yaz, at first. Then comes the sickness in her stomach, the need to run far, far away. But she takes steps toward that hillside, despite her body’s wishes. She can’t get that image out of her head, Father Xen standing at the ballroom entrance, a willful witness to the Doctor’s suffering.

“Good eye. Come on,” Yaz takes Ryan’s arm, pulling him along through the dark. The boy stumbles at first, then runs alongside Yaz in stride. It doesn’t take long for the two of them to catch up with the rangers. Xen looks up from the grass, his eyes growing wide in recognition of the two. The rangers seem to recognize them, too. Two of them back away, giving the humans and the murderer enough space. Only one keeps his hold on Xen, his eyes as wide as the prisoner himself. Xen begins to stutter, planting his feet into the dirt despite the ranger trying to drag him on.

“I didn’t mean for it to be the Doctor,” the frail man babbles, “It wasn’t supposed to be her, please, I-I read all about them, as a kid, you know? All the regenerations. I loved them, really—” 

A smacking sound rings loud against the quiet meadow. Yaz feels her hand collide with the priest’s cheek before she has a chance to think. Both Xen and Yaz recoil back, and the priest cries out in pain as he clutches his face. Yaz shakes the pain out of her wrist, feeling prickling heat on her palm from the slap. It sends a surge of warmth through her veins that makes her stand up straighter. Xen pushes himself up with no help from the ranger, who still holds a firm grip on his arm. His cheek burns red, and he rubs the side of his jaw. Fresh tears brim from his eyes, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Yaz.

“Don’t you dare,” Yaz’s voice lowers, making Xen tremble, “You don’t know the Doctor. You couldn’t have put her in that pod if you did.”

“No! No. No, I didn’t,” Xen speaks, shaking his head, “I see that, now. I swear. I… I was wrong.” The frail priest sobs under the weight of his words, his body sinking into the earth.

“Oh, you’re too late for that now, mate,” Ryan spits out, taking a step toward him. One glare from the human boy is enough to make the rangers back up even further. It’s strange, watching capable officers surrender to such a young man. Perhaps the looming presence of the Doctor is enough to scare them off.

“I’m sorry—”

“Why would you even do that, huh? If you admired her so much?” Ryan raises his voice. He throws his hands up in the air, pacing around the golden field. He stops in his tracks putting his hands on his hips.

“It wasn’t meant to be this way,” Xen mutters, stumbling over his words, “This planet is too precious. Dr. Fifer and I… we couldn’t let tourists take over the place. And she was able to modify that strain of bacteria, for Gaian soil. It was supposed to barricade the temple, scare off folks—” 

“Oh, right, because killing a few innocent people is a great way to get your agenda across,” Yaz scolds the man, rolling her eyes. Her words drip with rage, making Xen flinch back.

“It wasn’t supposed to be the Doctor!”  
“Well, it was,” Ryan says. He begins to circle Xen, tears staining down his cheeks. He furrows his eyebrows, wiping away stray tears. “Had to be selfish, didn’t ya? You took her away from us! And now you gotta live with that.”

“Ryan—” Yaz starts. He takes another step towards Xen, but she yanks his arm back. He looks up at her incredulously, his eyes wide. She doesn’t bother to look at her friend, cold eyes focused on the prisoner in the meadow.

“You have a cure?” Yaz asks. Xen shakes his head, letting the crickets do the talking.

“Oh, so you’re gonna let the bacteria take over the planet?” Yaz scoffs, “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not,” Xen insists, “Fifer was the one who handled the bacteria, not me. She wasn’t supposed to—” Xen stops himself, shaking his head, “The cure died with her. Not that, um, not that I could give it to you, anyway.” 

Yaz’s skin grow cold at his words, and her grip on Ryan loosens. No words escape her mouth; she just shakes her head, wondering why tears and gritted teeth take hold of her instead of the rage that boils at the sight of him. She turns back, only to see the silhouettes of Graham and Officer Harris behind her. Graham stops beside Yaz, leaning on his knees as he catches his breath. 

“See, Gaia will be the planet that killed the Doctor. I think Fifer would be happy with that. Everyone will fear Gaia’s name. No tourist will bother us again.”

Ryan breaks through Yaz’s tight grasp, lunging for Xen. The ranger holding him prisoner pulls him back, dragging the bound priest through the grass. There’s shouting from the both of them, incomprehensible screams that fill the valley. Even the encampment behind them seems to quiet down as the skirmish starts. Ryan gets a few blows into the man before Yaz and Graham spring into action, pulling him up from the dirt. The rangers handle Xen, pulling him up to his feet with tight grips on his arms. His lip is busted and bleeding down his chin, with one giant eye swollen shut.

“Ryan! Ryan, look at me…” Graham speaks in a soft voice. Yaz has a firm grip on his arms, planting her feet firmly into the dirt as the boy flails about. He settles down after a few seconds, his gaze focusing on Graham. Tears fill Ryan’s eyes, and only then does Yaz realize that she’s been crying, too. That image of the Doctor lying in the pod settles in their minds, pulling at their insides. Ryan holds his head in his hands, letting out a guttural sob. Graham is quick to react, pulling the taller human into a warm embrace.

“Why do they keep leaving us, granddad?” Ryan asks between sobs. 

Graham looks past Ryan’s shoulder, his gaze focusing on Xen in the grass. His glare says it all—no words need to be spoken to the man who killed his Doctor. He steals a glance at Yaz, and his gaze softens. Her body shakes under the weight of her tears. Graham holds out a free arm, extended towards Yaz. The other holds his grandson tight, never letting go. God, she’s glad the Doctor never had to see them like this. Yaz walks into his embrace, putting an arm around each friend. There’s a sort of warmth between the three of them, heads down, watching the way their shoes press into the mud.

“No matter what, Yaz and I aren’t leaving you, son,” Graham almost speaks in a whisper, “We’re still Team TARDIS. Always will be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys haven't gotten the hint in the chapter playlists that you should be listening to Gregory Alan Isakov, then, well... you should be listening to Gregory Alan Isakov.


	7. Made A Map From the Powerlines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The Night We Met (While Driving in The Rain)** by Lord Huron   
> **Death with Dignity** by Sufjan Stevens _(Ryan's Theme)_  
>  **Buried in the Waves** by Gregory Alan Isakov

They leave under the light of the five moons. For once, the encampment is silent. The vast sprawl of tents sits atop the nearest hill, motionless. Light rain taps on the leather tapestry, falling from sporadic dark clouds. The sky breaks through now and then, revealing distant stars. The white tents glow blue under the moon, framed by strands of grass that blow in the breeze. The aurora dances above them, as always, watching their travels in the dead of night. Yaz watches the little makeshift city grow smaller in her rear-view mirror. Her chest aches with more distance she puts between her and the Doctor, who is unaware of the world outside her pod. Her foot presses down on the ATV’s accelerator, speeding them off into the grass. Ryan grips one of the safety bars for dear life, his body tossing and turning in the passenger’s seat. Graham managed to squeeze himself into the back trunk, now lying down and holding his knees. He squints hard, looking past the two younger humans and into the distant fields beyond.

She tries to keep the vehicle in a straight line, but it’s nothing like her police car back home. Rocks hidden in the grass make the wheels twist and turn, and the vehicle sways to one side on occasion. It always makes her hold her breath, but she’s able to correct the ATV most of the time. She looks back into her rearview mirror. The tent encampment has been swallowed by the horizon, and their world turns pitch black. She can only look forward, the next several yards ignited by bright headlights. They look out to the canyons on their left, and Yaz is careful to drive a good distance alongside them. Only a week or so ago, the Doctor and Yaz sat in the dirt there, gazing up at the aurora above. It had seemed so magical to her then, but now, it only serves to light the path ahead. She can’t look up at the sky without thinking of the woman who fell from it.

“I think we turn here,” Graham calls out from the back. Yaz takes a hard right turn, feeling one of the wheels begin to spin out of control. There’s a yelp from Ryan as mud sprays from his side of the vehicle. She turns the wheel hard, only to have the ATV jump back from the mud embankment. The engine sputters for a moment, then they carry on into the distant fields. The steady drum of the engine mixes with chirping insects and grass shuddering under the wind. A line of evergreens marks the start of the forest, a wall in front of them. The TARDIS is hidden somewhere inside, not to far in from the start of it. On most days, Yaz would be content here, letting the light drizzle soak her coat as she listened to the night life around her. This planet doesn’t feel real, not without the Doctor beside them.   
“Hey, look! See the blue?” Ryan chimes in. He lets out a sigh of relief, loosening his grip on the safety bar. Sure enough, headlights strike the first stand of pines. Blue stands out in the forest green—the old police box sits far back into the woods, waiting. The droning engine sputters for a moment, then dies as Yaz turns the ignition key. The headlights shut off, sending them all into the dark. Yaz rummages through her coat pockets, careful to pull out her flashlight. A single beam spills out into the night, illuminated the police sign on the TARDIS. Ryan is the first to hop out of the ATV, his boots crunching the wet grass underneath. He does a little dance, prancing about the edge of the meadow before running towards the trunk. Yaz heads back to join him. Both take an arm from Graham, heaving him out of the trunk. It doesn’t come without a few gruff complaints from the older man, but he ends up on his feet despite it all. Some sort of animal howls in the distance, making the three of them hold their breath. The howl subsides, allowing the rest of the night ambience to filter through.

“Got the key, granddad?” Ryan asks. Graham nods, holding a golden key in his gloved hand. It’s a good thing that the Doctor left it in her coat pocket before the millennium, Yaz thinks to herself. Something cold falls on her shoulder, making her look up. Snowflakes fall from the sky, tickling at her eyelashes as they dance through the air. She bumps Ryan’s chest with her elbow, pointing up. The boy’s eyes grow wide, a smile spreading across his face. It’s the first time in a while since she’s seen that sparkle in his eye, and she feels a grin pulling at the corners of her mouth. 

“Does it always do that when we’re here?” Yaz jokes. Ryan chuckles at that, looking at the white dotting his gloves. 

“The forest likes us,” Ryan replies. He brushes the snow off his coat, looking back up at the sky.

The familiar creak of the TARDIS door snaps them out of their daydreams. Yellow light spills out of the police box, making Graham’s silhouette glow against the open door. He holds out his arm, propping the door open for the other two. Ryan is the first to head in, thanking his grandfather before disappearing inside the box. She’ll never quite get used to that, the way they could walk into that tiny box and find themselves in another dimension. Yaz heads in behind Ryan, and the familiar hum of the TARDIS accompanies her. Graham stands outside for a moment, taking in one last look at the snow-filled sky before shutting the door behind him.

Golden light fills the console room, emanating from the crystals that circle around them. The ship seems to whir and sigh with the passage of time. It almost feels like Yaz is intruding—she shouldn’t be here without the woman from the sky, prancing about and fidgeting with the console. Ryan circles the console, analyzing all the various levers and buttons. Gallifreyan characters are written all about the ship, meaning a world of difference but saying nothing. Yaz will have to ask the Doctor if she could teach her how to read her native language one day. If the woman comes back at all. The TARDIS seems to sigh at that thought, the crystal in the center dimming for a moment as a deep dread fills Yaz’s chest. Ryan looks up, watching the lights flicker above him.

“Right,” Graham says, pointing down to the rest of the ship, “I’m looking for the med bay. We could split up, meet back here in half an hour?”

“Sounds good, granddad,” Ryan sighs, resting his hands on the TARDIS console. Graham nods at that, hurrying down into the depths of the ship and out of sight. Ryan watches the older man go, and Yaz recognizes a sort of dullness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. His head falls, looking nowhere in particular. Taking a deep sigh, his gaze wanders to the patterns that weave across the ceiling. 

“What?” Yaz asks, copying his movements by leaning against the console. He shakes his head, not quite looking at her.

“What if she doesn’t make it, Yaz,” Ryan asks, “What are we gonna do?” His voice cracks as he speaks, and he averts his gaze from the human girl. Yaz puts a hand out towards Ryan’s, feeling a warmth stir in her chest.  
“Hey,” she insists, “The Doctor’s been through a lot. She’ll survive this, I know she will. Worst case scenario, her regenerative abilities will fight off the bacteria—” 

“I don’t want that,” Ryan raises his voice, making Yaz jump back. She lifts her hands off the console, studying the boy’s face. His eyebrows are hard and furrowed, his eyes filled with the old Ryan again. His shoulders drop, and their eyes lock on one another. The electric hum of the TARDIS consumes them, though even the ship itself goes quiet for a moment. 

“We can’t lose her,” Ryan mumbles, crossing his arms, “I can’t—she’s family, Yaz. Team TARDIS. All I had was Nan, and now….”

“Whoa, hold on,” Yaz reassures him. She has to stand on her toes to reach his shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. “Graham and I, we’re not going anywhere. I promise.”

“I know,” Ryan’s voice cracks again. He reciprocates the hug, pulling Yaz into his chest. The boy smells of fresh grass and motor oil, his breathing quick but well-paced. He breaks away from her first, shaking his head. “But, who did she say she was last, a white-haired Scotsman? That’s not our Doctor, Yaz. They keep leaving me.”

“Ryan—” 

“You can’t lose her, either,” Ryan spits out. He throws his hand in the air, pacing about the console room. “I saw you two dancing that night.” Even the ticking of the TARDIS stops, and it feels as if the ship has stopped all of time. Yaz raises her hand to explain herself, but Ryan cuts her off. He’s almost shouting, his voice bouncing off the TARDIS walls. “Oh, don’t give me that look. I know what you two mean to each other. I was happy for you two. It’s not right, that you have to let her go so soon, now, is it?”

“It’s not like that!” Yaz tries to defend herself, “She’s, like, a two-thousand-year-old alien! That regenerates! Nothing I can do about that.” The crystal in the center of the console seems to brighten, and there is a mechanical whir that almost sounds like laughter. Ryan scoffs at that, throwing his hands in the air.

“Oh, you think this is funny?” Ryan scolds the ship, looking up at the crystals for answers. The TARDIS sighs, falling back into distant hums and drones. Ryan shakes his head, watching his foot grind against the floor of the ship.

“You don’t even care, do you?” Ryan yells at the TARDIS, glaring at the crystal in the center of the room, “The Doctor’s dying, and we’re scrambling around trying to bring her back, and you don’t give us anything. She runs around saving the universe, and then her time comes, and nobody helps. Nobody does.” When he looks up, Yaz notices the lines of tears that stain his cheeks. Yaz takes a step forward to comfort him again, but this time, he turns his back on her. The TARDIS lets out an indignant beep, making him stop in his tracks. Ryan stuffs his hands into the pocket of his jacket, turning back to the human girl. 

“I don’t know what’s going to happen, but…” Ryan’s voice trails off for a moment, his deep brown eyes filled with tears. “Yaz, from here on out, we don’t take anyone for granted, okay? Not Graham, not each other. Nobody.” 

Yaz finds herself nodding at that, trying to wipe away the wetness in her own eyes. “Okay,” is all she can say, unable to find the will to look away from the boy she grew up with. She can feel the fear that radiates off him, the shakiness in his core despite the stillness in his body.

“Good.” He gives Yaz a short nod before turning away. Ryan disappears into the depths of the TARDIS, leaving Yaz to alone in a room of flickering crystals. As the back of his head disappears, Yaz’s gaze turns to the console itself.

“Lot of help, you were,” Yaz chastises the TARDIS, “Look at what you did to him!” The TARDIS buzzes back, wheezing and sighing. Yaz leans against one of the crystals that circles the console, feeling its warmth against her back.

“Oi, the Doctor’s dying, and we’re scared!” Yaz replies, “I’m just… scared. Okay? What if we never see her again?” The TARDIS sighs at that, its crystal seeping warmth into her back and shoulders. Yaz rips her coat off and throws it onto the floor. 

“I’m talking to a bloody box,” she mutters to herself. She leans her head against the crystal, her gaze wandering to the mesmerizing patterns on the ceiling. The TARDIS drones on, as if trying to speak to her in a hushed voice. It’s easy for her mind to get lost in here, floating away with the hum on the console. When she glances at the front door, she can pretend that a whole new planet awaits her, or a time lost in history. Maybe the Doctor stands behind those doors, alive and guiding her through a ballroom with a gentle hand. Yaz sighs, pressing the palms of her hands into the crystal. If only the TARDIS could feel the way she felt that night. She lets the memories flood back, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. Strange music wafts through her mind, and the sensation of the Doctor’s hand resting on her hip sends chills down her spine. It felt like they were the only two people in that ballroom, waltzing under the five moons. The TARDIS seems to hum along to the music, and Yaz shuts her eyes. Warm light against her eyelids fall into the waves of the aurora. She remembered the way her dress allowed galaxies to dance in the breeze. The presence of that woman beside her radiates like the sun, warming her against the cold night air. 

And then there’s that blast, ringing in her ears. She watches the hallways crumble under the weight of the earth, burying that poor woman she intercepted only moments before. The TARDIS goes quiet; even the humming stops. Yaz bundles up all that fear in her chest—the chandelier falling in slow time, the way the Doctor smiles through the pain as blisters run up her arms. She sends that fear through her veins, down her arms and into the crystal beneath her hands. Yaz lets her legs give out, her back sliding down the glowing crystal until she sits alone on the TARDIS floor. Cold metal seeps into her palms. Now more than ever, Yaz is alone, sitting amongst the hum of a spaceship heading nowhere.

At first, there’s a heightened pitch in the TARDIS’s usual white noise. Yaz sits up straight, looking about the console room. She watches the big lever slam down on its own, and the mini replica of the blue box starts to spin. Yaz jumps to her feet as the usual whir and sigh of the TARDIS begins to crescendo—it’s the sound it makes when it dematerializes. Buttons push themselves, as if some invisible figure is running about the console and making it wheeze and shake. The floor shakes underneath her, making her hold out her arms to regain her balance.

“Yaz?” A voice shouts from across the room. She looks up a disgruntled Ryan, his eyes wide with shock. He points at the console, his gaze darting between the human girl and the sputtering crystal in the center. 

“You’re not seriously flying this thing!” Ryan cries out.

“Does it look like I know how!?” Yaz shouts back. Before Ryan has a chance to say anything, a strange suction sound makes both humans go quiet. A vial shoots out of the console like a rocket, flying towards Ryan. He catches it with both hands, cradling the tiny thing in his palms. It holds a bright orange liquid of some sort, with white strands settling on the bottom. There’s a tiny cap on the bottom, as if a syringe or a drip could be attached at the other end. Ryan looks up at Yaz, a bright smile on his face, before the TARDIS lurches them to one side. Both humans fall back, and Yaz feels her side slam into one of the glowing crystals. She can hear Graham’s angry footsteps reach the console room as pain sears down her side. She hears him curse, most likely at the turbulence. Laughter drowns the walls of the ship, the patterns on the ceiling shifting and swirling as they plunge into the time vortex. It takes her a moment to realize that the laughter is hers, bellowing until her throat aches. Tears flood from her eyes, but this time, she doesn’t bother to wipe them away. Ryan clings onto the console for dear life, keeping a death grip on the vial of orange liquid. For once in a long time, Yaz is free—the weightlessness in her stomach allows her to fly. 

The TARDIS starts that familiar whir again, and within a matter of seconds, the ship shutters and then stops. The ground no longer churns underneath them, and the old blue box leaves them in silence. Yaz notices Graham in the opposite corner of the console room, using a nearby crystal for support as he rises. He points at the vial in Ryan’s hand, shaking his finger at it.

“That’s a serum,” Graham speaks between heavy breaths, “I used to get those things injected when I had cancer.”

“Oh my god,” Ryan breathes, “the Doctor’s gonna make it.” He glances at Yaz, the light in his eyes filling back in again. A massive grin spreads across his face, and he tears across the room and straight through the TARDIS doors with an excited holler.

“Wait, son—” Graham calls out, exasperated. He shoots a confused glance at Yaz before hurrying after him, wobbling somewhat as he gets his bearings again. Only then does Yaz realize that she’s still giggling like a child, letting her laughter bounce of the TARDIS walls. She takes a few minutes to calm herself, take deep breaths, until the steady hum of the ship replaces her laughter. She smiles at the crystal above her, supporting her back and warming her skin. 

“Thanks,” she manages to say. She hops up to her feet, hurrying into the wide world beyond. Golden light fades as she exits the blue box. She’s in that familiar medic tent, filled with empty pods and old cots. The roof of the tent has been blown open by the roof of the TARDIS, its flickering light sticking out in the open sky. A nurse is hunched over an open pod, and anxious Graham standing beside her. The Doctor lies there, her body now open to the elements. She has the same peaceful look on her face, unaware of the many pairs of eyes watching over her. Ryan looks away, his eyes focused on the grass but distant. The nurse prepares a needle with the orange serum, then takes the woman’s arm. She pulls up her sleeves, revealing a visible vein on the softest part of her arm. 

Yaz dashes to the empty side of the pod as the nurse inserts the needle. The orange liquid drains slowly, filling the time lord’s veins. Yaz takes hold of the Doctor’s free hand, warming it between both of her palms. There’s a nick against her fingertips, and she watches one of the Doctor’s fingers jerk as the needle slips out of her skin. The vial sits empty, with only a small stain of orange to prove there was a serum there at all. There’s a hitch in the Doctor’s breathing, and her head falls to the side. Her eyes face Yaz, and the human girl watches as her eyelids flutter before flying open. There it is, that universe within the Doctor’s eyes that had been gone for so long. The TARDIS could never dream of navigating those irises, for fear of falling into the black hole in the center. Yaz thought she would never see that sentient cosmos, nor was she expecting to explore them again. But there the Doctor is, that radiant face looking down on her. She squints her eyes, locking eyes with Yaz. Their fingers entwine into one another, a knot that could never be unraveled.

“Rose?” she asks. Her voice is ragged, unused in days. And then her heavy eyelids fall, shutting away her universe once more.


	8. All of the Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The Universe** by Gregory Alan Isakov _(Thirteenth Doctor's Theme)_  
>  **Come Out and Play** by Billie Eilish  
>  **My Friends** by Oh Wonder

The TARDIS is quieter than usual. Yaz walks down the golden corridors, walls patterned in the same way as the console room. Soft light ignites the path, but she can hardly push herself forward. Ryan had excused her for the day a few minutes prior. Aiding the rangers becomes more tiring with each shift that comes and goes, but there is always hope for the next recon ship to arrive. The refugees hold comfort in the sky, but Yaz and her friends find comfort in the old blue box and its maze of infinite hallways. Yaz’s room isn’t far, only a few yards ahead and to the right. Soon, she’ll snuggle under the covers of her bed, letting her heavy eyelids fall at last.

Yaz stops at the end of the hall. A white metal door sits ahead of her, like the front door to a hospital room. The TARDIS rearranged itself a bit once they put the recovering time lord in her care. The medical bay sits where the Doctor’s room used to be, close to the rooms of the three humans. It’s only been 48 hours since she was injected with the serum, but the nurse insisted that rest under the TARDIS’s supervision was the best thing for her. Yaz doesn’t dare approach the door, for fear of disturbing the time lord. Yaz presses her hand against the cold metal. There’s an inner warmth in her chest, knowing that the Doctor is on the other side. Alive. A deep sigh escapes the human girl, and she turns towards her room. She puts the medical bay behind her as she heads further into the ship, navigating an impossible maze of corridors that feel all too familiar.

A deep blue door stands out in the never-ending passage. The boys’ rooms sit on the opposite end of the hall of hers. Two mahogany doors mark their entrances, but Yaz’s door is replaced by blue. She approaches her new door, pressing her fingers against the splintered wood. Blue paint is stripped off in some places, especially around the fading silver doorknob. Flecks of paint fall onto the metal floor, and there’s an indignant wheeze from the TARDIS. She can’t help but laugh. She could make a long list of that old box’s quirks—moving her bedroom would be the least significant of the bunch. Yaz has to shimmy the silver doorknob before it opens with a click that echoes down the hallway. She sucks in her breath, aware of the Doctor’s presence only a few doors down. 

Yaz lets out a gasp, nearly a whisper. She shuts the door behind her, letting it groan before slamming shut. The TARDIS’s usual hum fades as the door shuts her away from the rest of the ship. Her eyes trail across the ceiling, following the projections of distant stars. They seem to swirl together in a fluid motion, swinging about the room. Yaz ducks her head as an asteroid hurtles past her, only about the size of her fist. It rakes across her shoulder, passing through as if it were a ghost. The room is silent, a sort of deafening silence that Yaz has only felt when standing in front of the TARDIS doors, watching the universe float by. One planet sits in the center of it all, like a watchful eye observing her from a distance. It burns red, shining a harsh light down on the little room. It almost looks like Mars, but far larger—it’s covered in dark clouds, flashing sparks of brilliant orange from what Yaz can guess are thunderstorms. Warmth emanates from the planet, and Yaz suppresses the urge to take off her leather jacket. She finds herself giggling, hearing her laughter bounce off the walls of the tiny space. In all her time exploring the TARDIS, she has never found a room this wonderful. 

Yaz wanders along the side of the closest wall, letting the bindings of books brush against her fingertips. The whole room is lined with shelves like the ones in the TARDIS library; an old spruce grain, though these ones are covered in dust. Tattered journals fill shelves to the brim along the walls, with books scattered across tables and tossed on the floor. Photographs fill the walls—most of them polaroids, some digital, some with faces that flash holographic smiles. A few old paintings dot the higher portions of the wall, near the holographic galaxy. One depicts a young brunette woman, holding a sort of Mona Lisa smile. Yaz reaches up to pull a polaroid off the wall, studying it under the glowing red light. It’s an old family photo, a group of four standing against the backdrop of an old village of some sort. She first notices a woman with a mess of curly hair, standing against a group of three more people. Yaz recognizes the bright red fez atop one of the men—it’s identical to the one that Kerblam! sent to the Doctor only a month or so ago. He wears a warm smile and a bowtie to match. A ginger-haired girl stands between the two men, laughing at some joke that Yaz missed. She smiles at that, putting the picture back where it belonged.

Yaz catches the eye of a blonde girl around her age, all dressed up alongside a man wearing dirty sandshoes. They seem happy in this snapshot in time, their arms locked and taking the universe in stride. Yaz has to laugh at their funny outfits, holding the picture up in the red light. She holds on to the picture of the duo, flipping through books on the main table. Some of them are scrapbooks with more pictures—one stands out with a lizard-like alien and a human woman in Victorian-period dress, standing beside… a white-haired Scotsman. Yaz shuts the book, looking back at the photograph of the strange man in sand shoes and the blonde girl. One of them is the woman she would travel to the ends of the universe with, and she can’t even decipher which one is her.

“Strange, that the TARDIS led you here. Wonder what she’s trying to tell us,” Yaz hears a familiar voice behind her. Her heart skips a beat, and she whips around to face the old blue door. The Doctor stands tall in the dim red light, free of burns and bruises. She wears her usual coat, flowing behind her. There’s that light in her eyes that Yaz hasn’t seen in days, that tug of a smile on the time lord’s lips, and something within her chest seizes for a moment. Wordless, Yaz runs toward her, pulling the time lord into a hug. She throws her arms around the Doctor’s shoulders, balancing on her toes. The Doctor lets out a grunt of pain, making Yaz loosen her hold on her. The time lord’s movements are still shaky, but she keeps a firm hold on her human companion.

“Sorry, sorry… I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” Yaz breathes. She lets go of the time lord, letting her arms fall to her sides, “We were so scared, Xen almost killed you, and you’ve been out for days, I’ve lost count, and I just thought—”

“Hey, I always turn out alright in the end, don’t I?” the Doctor reassures her, holding the human girl’s shoulders. Yaz’s body shakes under the time lord’s hands, but she won’t break eye contact with her. She shakes her head, feeling wet tears stream down her face. 

“No, you were gonna regenerate,” Yaz explains, “We—I didn’t want to let you go.” The Doctor freezes, letting her arms slide off Yaz’s shoulders. She reaches toward the human girl’s face, then falters. There’s a long pause between the two, tense within the silence of the room. 

“One day, you’ll have to, you know,” the Doctor starts, “I’m old, Yaz, and I’ve done this so many times I’ve lost count.” The Doctor looks around the room, her eyes fixated on the glowing red planet in the center of the ceiling. “That’s why I’ve kept this room for so long.”  
“What is this place, even?” Yaz asks. The Doctor smiles at that, scrunching her nose in that familiar way that makes Yaz’s heart flutter. She spins Yaz around, pointing up to the red planet hovering above them. Her voice is quiet, right beside the human girl’s ear.

“Remember what I told you, when we first met? That I keep my family with me?” the Doctor explains, motioning her hands at the ceiling. Space junk passes through her fingertips, exploding into dust. “This is the constellation of Kasterborous, and that’s my home planet, up there. Gallifrey.” The Doctor sighs, letting go of Yaz’s shoulders. Her arms sway back and forth, her eyes now wandering about the floor. It seems that the time lord will do anything to avoid watching that great big planet up above.

“Everything and everyone I’ve lost winds up here,” the Doctor explains, shrugging her shoulders, “The universe passes by, but me, I keep on going.”

Yaz looks up at the old red planet, shining down on her. She tries to picture Earth, instead. How such a brilliant planet could shine in one moment and dissolve into space the next, she can’t fathom. A thousand faces smile on her from different lifetimes, so many periods of time that the TARDIS can’t even travel to. Finally, as Yaz looks upon the Doctor’s face, her pain doesn’t hide anymore. It radiates from her eyes, consuming the room. It occurs to her that she will be one of these smiling faces one day, lost in the corners of this dusted room. The Doctor reaches for Yaz’s hand, and her heart begins to race. She takes the human girl’s hand, revealing one of the polaroids in her fingertips. It’s the picture of the blonde girl and the man with dirty sandshoes, smiling up at the two of them. A quiet chuckle escapes the Doctor as she holds it out into the red light. 

“Who are they?” Yaz asks.

“I’m the skinny one in the pinstripe suit,” the Doctor explains, pointing at the man, “I think that was 1879. The girl, that’s Rose.” The time lord lets out a heavy sigh, setting the polaroid on the table behind Yaz. “I was younger back then, thought I could fight the inevitable. Broke my heart when I lost her.” 

Yaz studies the photograph behind her. The girl can’t be any older than her. She recognizes that look in her eye—a girl that’s seen so much, and nobody could understand it more than the Doctor. The two hold hands, shyly hiding it behind them. There’s a look in the younger Doctor’s eyes that Yaz thinks she’s seen before. Yaz looks up at the Doctor, noticing the streaks of red light in her blonde hair.

“Did you love her?”

The Doctor’s eyes widen for a moment, her body frozen. Her eyes soften, and a soft smile spreads across her face.

“Oh, Yaz. I love every single one of them. Always.” The Doctor looks away, her gaze wandering to the constellation above. “But, yeah, I did,” she says. There’s a sincerity in the Doctor’s eyes, a gaze lost in time. 

“You called me Rose,” Yaz lets the words tumble out, “When we moved you to the TARDIS. You were awake for a moment.” The Doctor’s eyes widen, latching onto the human girl. She opens her mouth to speak, then shuts it. The time lord smiles, a sort of quiet desperation swimming in her hazel eyes.

“’Course I did,” the Doctor mutters, “Lovely. Um…” She looks down, not quite making eye contact with Yaz. The Doctor fidgets with her hands, then lets stuffs them into the pockets of her coat. 

“Look, Yaz,” the Doctor starts up again, “I need you to understand this, because Rose didn’t, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. Can’t let it happen, not this time.” Yaz tilts her head to the side, looking up at the woman who fell from the stars. 

“It’s just… I’m an observer, see? I try to set things right, now and then, but ultimately, I’m just watch everything come and go. Me, I’m detached, but you aren’t. You’ve got a home, family, a fixed point in time to live your life in.” The Doctor starts to rock back and forth, keeping an unsteady gaze on Yaz. She speaks up again, quieter this time. “Rose thought she could stay with me forever, and I fell for the lie because that’s what I wanted.”

“What are you saying?” Yaz asks. The Doctor flinches at every movement Yaz makes, her shoulders quivering as she speaks.

“I’m going to outlive you. Not just with the old time lord lifespan, but we’re in a dangerous line of work, you and me. And… I can’t twist you around like that, Yaz. I took Rose’s life away, I thwart the lives of everyone I...” Her voice trails off, her nose crinkling at one those next words could have meant. The Doctor shakes those unspoken words away, grabbing Yaz’s shoulders. Her eyes swim with a thousand emotions, like the life energy of the woman is pouring back out after days of hiding. “Anyways, you could be an amazing cop back in Sheffield. Get your own flat, with a purple sofa. Live a good, long life.”

“Doctor, I don’t—” 

“I just… I need you to know, that this won’t last forever. Even though I really want you to stay, it doesn’t matter. If you want to go back to Sheffield and grow old, just say so—”

“Doctor—Doctor, will you quit your rambling and just listen to me?” Yaz raises her voice. The Doctor goes quiet, swallowing hard. The time lord’s hands are a heavy weight on her shoulders, making her shiver despite the warmth of Gallifrey hovering above them. Photographs line the walls behind her, a thousand faces watching Yaz’s next decision. Her heart hammers hard against her chest—she can’t imagine what it’s like to have two, pounding at the speed of sound. Her stomach twists as she closes the gap between them, wrapping her arms around the other woman’s shoulders. 

“God, thank you.” Yaz is surprised at the irritation in her voice, despite the smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. The Doctor’s hazel eyes take over her universe, irises swimming with an intricate maze of shooting stars. The time lord lets out a gasp as Yaz kisses her. It’s a soft kiss, one that causes fireworks to burst through her nervous system. Two heartbeats thrum against Yaz’s chest, faster than her own. The Doctor instinctively rests her arms on Yaz’s hips, and when they break away from each other, it almost feels like they’re dancing in the ballroom again. The continual whirring of the TARDIS has a soft beat to it, and the two of them swing to silent music.

“But, Yaz—” 

“Come on, Doctor! Sheffield, the TARDIS, it wouldn’t make a difference. I’m going to end up in this room either way,” Yaz points out. She leans toward the Doctor, her hands still wrapped around the other woman’s neck. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m not letting you go yet.”

“What about Sheffield?”

Yaz sighs. “I mean, I love my family, but that life? Solving parking disputes isn’t living, Doctor.” She pauses for a moment, looking up at the holographic stars. Bright lights of long-gone planets shine down on them in this room of fading memories. The fact that she can stand amongst the cosmos could be a miracle, if not for the woman in front of her. 

The Doctor takes in the human in her arms, eyes wide and unflinching. “I can’t lie to you, Yaz—"

“You’re not! I hear you, Doctor, really. If all this traveling with you has taught me anything, it’s that I could lose it all at any second. Doesn’t matter if I’m doing a shift at the station or running away with you,” Yaz explains, pausing for breath, “Okay, maybe you’re right, this won’t last forever, but we’re here together now, and we’re living. This—”

Yaz kisses her again, and the Doctor gently cups Yaz’s jaw. Her soft touch sends warmth through her skin. Yaz pulls away, letting their foreheads rest against one another. She shuts her eyes, letting the time lord’s energy pass through her. It sends a shiver down her spine, and she relishes every moment of it.

“—this is living. Put my photographs on the wall, when the time comes,” Yaz’s voice is almost a whisper, “But we shouldn’t hide from each other while we can still dance.” Yaz kisses the time lord’s forehead. The Doctor lets her hands fall around Yaz’s arms, and Yaz brushes a lock of blonde hair behind the Doctor’s ear. Hazel eyes fill her universe, black pupils widening into a black hole that pulls her in. Fresh tears glisten in the Doctor’s eyes, but she doesn’t dare look away from Yaz. It feels like they’ve possessed each other, stagnant under the swirling stars. The Doctor opens her mouth to say something, but no sound comes out.

“Doctor?” Yaz asks, hearing the worry in her voice, “Did I say something wrong?”

The Doctor is silent for a few seconds, struggling to find her voice. There’s a whirlwind of emotions in her eyes, flying about like the asteroids that bounce off the walls. Her voice cracks as she speaks. 

“D’you think Rose knew that?”

Yaz laces her arms around the Doctor’s shoulders again, feeling a deep seed of doubt sprout in her chest. “Maybe. I don’t know. Hey, are you okay? Was that too—” 

“No. You’re right. By Gallifrey, you’re right,” the Doctor says, the hint of a smile growing on her face, “You humans are phenomenal, you know that? I drag you across time and space and you still try to live in the present. Reminding us aliens about what matters.” She chuckles to herself, crinkling her nose in the way Yaz adores. It turns into an incontrollable laughter, spilling out of both women and echoing through the TARDIS hallways. The time lord smiles at her, a sort of radiant smile that fills the room. As their laughter fades, they are surrounded by silence. For once, they are alone, without any prying eyes or possible dangers to pull them apart. Every second of looking into the Doctor’s eyes terrifies her, in the same way that discovering a new planet or riding a rollercoaster would. She sighs, pulling the Doctor closer.

“Y’know, when you almost died, I realized how little I appreciated you,” Yaz speaks softly, “and now… I want to make sure I don’t miss out on you.”

There’s a sort of love in the Doctor’s eyes that Yaz could only dream of. How a single being could love so hard, she will never know. Or how, within all the storylines that connected throughout time and space, hers managed to tangle with this woman from the sky. The Doctor wraps her arm around Yaz, pulling her in for a quick peck on the lips. There’s a spark of energy between the two of them, and Yaz can’t help but giggle. The Doctor kisses her again and again, one in succession after the other, hardly giving either of them a chance to breathe. She tastes like the cold night air on Gaia, like custard creams and stardust. It leaves the both of them breathless and giggling like children.

“I’m never gonna miss out on you, Yasmin Khan,” the Doctor breathes, “Never.”

~~~

The TARDIS whirs and sighs, and the Doctor hums a little tune to go along with it. Her focus is on the empty serum, her hands pressed against the edges of the console. Yaz leans against one of the crystal pillars, watching the Doctor at work. The time lord threw her coat aside, where it now lays in a heap on the grated floor. The Doctor holds an eyedropper with a steady hand, pushing it through the glass. Holding her breath, she pokes at the last drop of orange liquid, pressing against the edge of the meniscus. Orange rises through the eyedropper, and the Doctor lets out a sigh of relief. She drips the sample into a ceramic plate, and the liquid fizzes out. The Doctor scrunches her nose, putting her hands on her hips. 

“Water and base nucleotides,” she says, “That’s it? Wait, no, there’s too much sodium…” She dives for her coat on the floor, fishing out her sonic screwdriver. There’s a skip in her step as she wanders back to the console, flashing a quick smile at Yaz. With a grand flourish, the Doctor points it at the petri dish, and it emits a familiar buzz. She analyzes her sonic, her eyes lighting up like the Gaian auroras.

“There’s hardly any gaseous oxygen in this,” the Doctor says, giving the console a little pat, “Oh, brilliant, forcing it into an anaerobic environment. Look, Yaz!” She motions for Yaz to stand beside her, her eyes brimming with hope. Yaz saunters up to the console, hands clasped behind her back. She feels warmth against her cheeks as the Doctor hangs her arm around the human girl’s shoulders. She motions at the petri dish with her free hand as she rambles on.

“These bacteria are a lot like us. We all need oxygen for cellular respiration, right? Well, not all bacteria. Say we’re in a swampy environment, lots of water and no air pockets for gaseous oxygen in the soil. Some bacteria that are adapted for that, they replace the oxygen with sulfur, or nitrogen, or… arsenic!” The Doctor lets go of Yaz, needing both hands to make gestures at the petri dish as she talks. “See, these fellas are more closely related to us than those anaerobic bacteria. Can’t metabolize if there isn’t any free-floating oxygen. Good old swamp water and Darwinian evolution save the day, eh?” The Doctor paces around Yaz, her eyes wandering to the organic patterns on the ceiling. She presses her sonic against her chin, her gaze lost in a swarm of theories. “We could fix this, Yaz. We’ll need lots of water, from the ocean, maybe…. We could do that, right? Can’t be too far, and we’ve got the TARDIS up and running, now… Oh! We could use the station’s old wastewater and add a bit of—what?”

Yaz doesn’t realize that she is staring until the Doctor goes quiet. Her hazel eyes are littered with questions, and Yaz can’t find the will to pull herself away from them. She approaches the time lord, gripping the ends of her yellow suspenders. Pulling the Doctor in, she gives her a quick kiss before jumping back. There’s surprise written all over the Doctor, her once-scattered attention now centered on the human girl.

“You’re cute when you ramble,” Yaz says, “That’s all.” The tips of her fingers still wrap around the Doctor’s suspenders.

“Oh,” the Doctor laughs, “Okay. That’s new.”

Light spills from the front door, bathing the ship in white light. Yaz jumps back, crossing her arms as a silhouette appears in the TARDIS doors. The Doctor takes a step back, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her coat. Her eyes are glued to the floor for a moment, then wander up to the man in the doorway. Yaz recognizes Ryan’s yellow beanie in an instant, along with the kind brown eyes underneath it.

“Yaz, you might wanna—” Ryan halts in his tracks, his eyes wide. His jaw drops at the sight of the Doctor. A few seconds of silence pass before Ryan springs to life. “Doctor! Oh my god…”

Ryan’s cries of joy turn into a muddled mess of laughter and slurred words. He races towards the Doctor, picking her up and swinging her around the console room before setting her back on her feet again. A little squeal of surprise comes from the time lord, but she hugs Ryan back with a similar fierceness. The Doctor buries her face in Ryan’s shoulder, her smile radiating joy. 

“You missed me that much?” the Doctor says between fits of laughter. Ryan continues to sputter like a child, clinging onto the Doctor for dear life.

“Well, would you look at that,” Graham’s voice wanders through the room. Ryan lets go of the Doctor, turning toward the front door. Graham shuts it behind him, a hint of a smile on his face. Ryan points at the Doctor, who is now wide-eyed, her gaze darting between her companions. Ryan must have squeezed the life out of her, because she has to gasp for breath.

“She made it,” Ryan breathes, unable to contain the sheer energy inside of him. Graham saunters up to the rest of the team, patting his grandson’s shoulder.

“’Course she is, son. I told you the TARDIS would take good care of her.” He pulls the Doctor into a tight hug, this one softer and far less intense than Ryan’s. The Doctor’s shoulders relax, her eyes closed for a moment as she takes in the older man’s gentle embrace.

“Oh, don’t go off, granddad—” 

“Good to see you back, Doc,” Graham says, letting the Doctor go. 

“Good to be back in action,” the Doctor says with a smile, looking between the two boys, “How long was I out, anyways?”

“About a week,” Yaz tells her. All three of her friends turn around to look at her. Ryan nods his head, his brows furrowing.

“Yeah, about that…” Ryan says, glancing at the Doctor, “The prison ship just arrived. They got Xen a few days ago, and he’s heading off now. We came to tell Yaz.” He sneaks a glance at his old friend, and Yaz can sense worry in his eyes.

“I want to see him,” the Doctor insists. She takes a step towards Ryan, making him take a step back. “Is it too late?”

“Why would you even want to?” Graham points out, “He tried to kill you!”

“Hang on,” Yaz holds up her hand to stop Graham. The older man goes silent, his eyes flashing between the two women. Yaz swallows hard, walking up to the time lord. “Are you sure about this?”

“’Course I am,” the Doctor says, “I bet he’s got a life sentence ahead of him. It wouldn’t be fair to send him off without a proper talk, now would it?”

“Well, you’re lucky,” Ryan says, motioning toward the TARDIS doors, “Xen should be outside. His last request was to see to the three of us before he’s off.”

“Oh boy, is he in for a surprise…” Graham says, his voice trailing off. The Doctor springs into action, her hand brushing Yaz as she sweeps past her. Ryan lets out a huff of disapproval as she passes him, and he hurries behind her. Sunlight fills the TARDIS as the Doctor throws open the doors. Yaz’s legs move on their own, throwing her into the light despite the twisting pain in her chest that pulls her back.

Yaz finds herself in the tent that she had left only a few hours ago. Before, it was pitch-black outside—now, the orange light of dawn spills through the tent flap. Her limbs weigh her down, and it occurs to her that she hasn’t slept since the Doctor returned. When she walked into the TARDIS, she was alone, lost in a planet hundreds of galaxies away from home. Now the Doctor pulls her forward, her coattails flying behind her as she throws open the tent flaps. The cold air punctures her throat, waking Yaz again. Two of the five moons are visible in the sky, reflecting the oranges and pinks of dawn. Facets of the nitrogen mountains glimmer back at her, flashing an infinite array of colors. A familiar gasp rises from the vast meadows, making Yaz turn toward the sunrise. 

The Doctor’s blonde hair catches the multicolored sky, her silhouette standing against wispy clouds. Xen stands in front of her, guarded by two rangers in uniform. His whole body quivers, his owl-like eyes wide and brimming with tears. His lip is swollen and bruised from when Ryan got his hands on him. Xen’s knees buckle for a moment, but he manages to keep himself upright. Metal shackles hold his arm behind his back, clanging with every twitch in his skin. The sight of Xen makes Yaz’s stomach churn, and she has to look away, towards the tent. Ryan just appears on the other side, keeping the flap open for Graham to push through. The boy’s gaze wanders, finally latching onto Xen. There’s something hard in his eyes that makes her uneasy enough to look away. She approaches the Doctor, taking her free hand. Warm fingers interlace with hers, but the two women don’t look at each other. They both watch Xen, who begins to stumble over his words. Yaz can feel Ryan and Graham’s eyes boring down on them, but she just gives the Doctor’s hand a tight squeeze.

“By Gaia, you’re alive!” Xen sputters, taking tentative steps toward the two women, “I can’t believe it—” One of the rangers yanks on his arm, pulling him back before he can get close. He lets out a grunt of pain, slouching his shoulders. He starts to slur through a slew of apologies, sobbing through it all.

“Why’d you do it?” the Doctor asks. Father Xen goes silent despite the quiet in her voice. He swallows hard, catching his breath between uncontrollable sobs.

“I don’t know,” Xen admits, “I thought I could save my planet…. But now… I guess I’m going to be its killer.” The Doctor stiffens at his words, but his eyes are downcast, unaware of the time lord’s change. He looks up at the sky, shaking his head. “There’s no fixing what I did, Doctor. The bacteria’s spreading so fast, I… I wanted everyone to leave Gaia be, and now they have to, but it’s all wrong. This old place deserves to be loved, and I made it unlovable.” He tries to hold back his tears, but its no use. Fearful eyes look between his two guards, and then fall on the Doctor. “I’m just glad you’re alive. At least I didn’t destroy that.”

There’s a shift in the Doctor that Yaz can’t comprehend. Her whole composure relaxes, and she lets out a deep exhale as all her tension falls away. Stars shine down on her, twinkling in its last moments before it must yield to the dawn. There’s a swirl of love that passes through Yaz—never has she seen a woman so beautiful, lost in a decisive moment. The Doctor never takes her eyes off her killer. Yaz feels the Doctor’s fingertips fall away, displaced by the morning breeze. As the Doctor approaches Xen, even the rangers back away at her presence. The old priest takes a few steps back, his pupils dilating. Apologies start to spill out of him again, his last offensive before accepting his fate. 

“Doctor—” Yaz finds herself pleading to the woman from the sky. The Doctor doesn’t seem to hear her at all. Wordlessly, she wraps her arms around Xen, pulling him into her embrace. The whole group falls silent as her coat engulfs the old priest. Yaz’s pleas die on her lips, watching the Doctor hug him tighter. With his arms handcuffed, Xen can’t hug her back. The Doctor nestles his head against her shoulder, and all he can do is look at Yaz with the same amount of shock that flows through her veins.

“It’s okay,” the Doctor whispers, “I think I’ve found a cure. We’ll get this place all fixed up for you.”

“You—you did?” Xen asks. The Doctor gives him a hum of approval. Yaz doesn’t think his eyes can get any wider, gazing across the three humans. His ears perk up in an instant as he absorbs the Doctor’s words. Sobs turn to cries of joy, hooting and hollering as he spins the Doctor around. “Oh, bless you! Bless you!”

“Don’t mention it,” the Doctor laughs, a wide grin plastered on her face, “That’s what I’m here for.” As she turns to face Yaz, their eyes lock with one another. The time lord's whole universe spiral through her irises, only a peek of what wonders lie within. It sends Yaz back to their time in ballroom, before it all fell apart. Before the Doctor stitched it all back together again and more. She could stargaze in those eyes for centuries, and she’d still never find the depths of that space. A chuckle escapes the Doctor’s lips, and it’s only then that Yaz realizes that her mouth is hanging open at the sight of it all. She shuts her mouth as soon as she is aware of her own awe. The Doctor smiles back, scrunching her nose in that way that Yaz adores. The Doctor pats Xen’s shoulder before letting him go, taking a few steps back. The two rangers are frozen in time, only broken by a swift nod from the time lord. They return to their posts, one of them pushing Xen forward.

“It there any way to shorten his sentence?” the Doctor asks one of them. The woman shakes her head, her eyes still dazed from the time lord’s sudden compassion.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “But he’s being charged with sever counts for murder, and your attempted murder. He’s likely never coming back, ma’am.” Xen sighs at that, staring at the grass underneath his feet. He opens the palms of his hands, letting its golden blades pass over his skin.

“Don’t worry about me, Doctor. The least I can do is take my punishment,” he insists, “I’m gonna miss this place, but that’s okay.”

“No,” the Doctor says, turning to the ranger, “No. Just give him a month, maybe. He doesn’t have to be near society, we can send him somewhere remote with the TARDIS. Just push out his trial—”

“Doc, what are you—”

“I know what I’m doing, Graham!” the Doctor spits out, turning back to the ranger, “Please. Give him a chance to appreciate his home, before he leaves it forever. We have to stay and fix the soil, anyways. I’ll take full responsibility of him.”

There’s a pause in the air, and Yaz holds her breath. The ranger considers the time lord, her eyes piercing under the brim of her hat. Xen’s massive eyes dart between the two of them, watching his fate fall into the hands of these two women. Even the birds seem to stop their usual chorus—its as if all of Gaia is holding her breath, watching. Finally, the ranger nods, breaking the silence.

“I’ll speak with my superior,” she decides, “I’m sure it’ll work out, as long as you keep an eye on him.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you…” Xen starts up again with a million sayings of gratitude, his feet crunching the grass as he hops about. Behind her, Yaz hears a familiar chuckle. She whips her head around, only to see Ryan standing at the edge of the tent, a broad smile filling his face. He laughs as the little alien rejoices in his temporary freedom. He makes eye contact with Yaz, and he immediately drops the emotion in his face. Yaz smiles back, feeling a laugh bubbling out of her throat. A smile sneaks back onto Ryan’s face, but he tries to hide it anyways. What’s even more apparent is the life flowing from the Doctor that none of them have seen in days. It’s refreshing, seeing the time lord jumping about with the boundless energy of the stars that Yaz fell for in that Sheffield train. For the first time in weeks, she feels at home, knowing that the Doctor is at her side and the TARDIS rests behind them. At least for now, Yaz thinks to herself, and she’s going to relish every moment of it.

~~~

The old police box stands out in the sunrise. Brilliant orange washes the worn blue paint, coloring the valley beyond. Grass extends out for miles, only cut off by the mountains with their infinite facets. Oak-like trees dot the landscape, and herds of large beasts wander distant meadows, little pricks of darkness in the golden expanse of land. Yaz can stand here forever, with her friends at her side. The Doctor takes in a deep breath beside her, letting the morning breeze ruffle her short hair. Their fingers brush one another, but Yaz pulls away in an instant. She can sense Ryan and Graham’s presence behind them, looking out into the world beyond. It had only been a few days since Yaz and the Doctor admitted their feelings to one another, and neither of them told to the boys yet. Not that it matters to Yaz all that much—she is content with this moment, watching the sun paint the sky.

Father Xen’s frame is silhouetted by the morning light. A red light blinks against his leg—the ankle monitors in this galaxy aren’t too different from the ones back home. His white uniform contrasts with the tan backpack that rests on his shoulders. The inverted triangle patch sits in the center, a symbol of the group he once despised. A rolled-up sleeping bag hangs off the end of it, and several coats stick out of the top flap. For once, he smiles at the four of them, prancing about on his toes with newfound energy.

“I’ve always wanted to climb those mountains, since I was a kid. Never thought I’d get a chance to do it,” Xen says. He takes one look at the TARDIS, shaking his head in disbelief, “Thank you, Doctor.” The Doctor takes a step forward, giving old priest a quick pat on the shoulder.

“Enjoy yourself while you can, Xen. And don’t try to get into any trouble, eh?”

Xen erupts with laughter, letting the wind carry his voice. He reaches for the Doctor, giving her a quick hug before pulling away. There’s still that twisting in her chest that Yaz feels every time Xen gets close to her, but she pushes it down. The old priest takes one last look at all four of them, giving the team a nod before turning his back to them. He heads off into the landscape, the vast meadows of Gaia opened wide. There’s a quickness in his pace that reminds Yaz of a child, seeing the planet for the first time. Soon, he is enveloped by the fields of gold, a wandering speck in the everlasting grass.

“Why’d you do that?” Ryan asks after a long period of silence.

“Well, as my past regeneration once put it, ‘hate is always foolish, and love is always wise’,” the Doctor says. Her gaze stays on Xen, watching his silhouette grow smaller and smaller with every second.

“Doesn’t sound like you at all,” Graham points out.

“Well, I was younger, back then.”

Something cold falls on Yaz’s nose. Familiar flakes of white fall from the sky, floating through the air in silence. It makes her giggle like a child, watching her leather coat and the grass underneath her get patterned in snow.

“Again?” Graham complains, brushing the snow out of his hair, “Doc, you better take us someplace sunny next time.”

“Hey, we’ve still got lots of work to do,” Ryan points out, “DNA-eating bacteria ring a bell, or did you forget already?” 

“I’m not that old,” Graham complains, heading inside the TARDIS. Ryan follows his grandfather toward the blue box. He stops at the front door, turning back to look at Yaz and the Doctor.

“Don’t take too long, yeah?” Ryan says, giving Yaz a mischievous smile. Her friend chuckles to himself, shutting the TARDIS door behind him. Yaz scoffs at that, throwing her hands in the air.

“Honestly, are we that obvious?” 

“I don’t know, are we?” the Doctor asks. There’s a look of genuine confusion on her face that makes the human girl laugh. She saunters up to the time lord’s side, standing on her toes to give her a quick peck on the cheek. When Yaz pulls away, she notices the redness in the Doctor’s cheeks and a sort of wild surprise in her eyes. Her body freezes for a moment, hazel irises scanning the human girl. Then the time lord acts, draping her arm around Yaz’s shoulders. The Doctor’s body heat buffets the cold morning breeze, and Yaz instinctively nuzzles into her. The dark speck of Xen continues to wander towards the horizon, catching up with herds beyond.

“Think he’s gonna be okay?” Yaz asks after a while. The Doctor’s gaze observes the view, taking in all the colors in the sky as if she had never seen anything quite like it.

“No way of knowing, really,” the Doctor says. She turns to Yaz, looking down at the girl under her arm, “You sure you wanna stay with me?”

“For as long as I can. I want more time with you, you know that.” Yaz lies her head against the Doctor’s shoulder, letting all the muscles in her body relax. “Can we come see this place again, one day? I don’t think I’m quite ready to let it go.”

“‘Course,” the Doctor says, “We should have another go at camping, sometime. If you’re up for it.”

Yaz looks up at the Doctor, feeling a blush creeping through her cheeks. “Doctor, are you asking me on a date?”

A smirk forms on her lips as the time lord scrunches her nose, trying to figure her companion out. The Doctor begins to stumble on her words, making Yaz’s smile turn into a toothy grin. “Um. Well… maybe.”

Crickets sing with the rising sun, filling their world with white noise. Occasionally, Yaz hears the song of an exotic bird, off in a tree somewhere. She tries to take it all in—the way the nitrogen mountains glisten in the morning light, the feeling of grass brushing against her knees. Gold and white blend with fresh snowfall, sprinkling the two of them from sporadic clouds. Yaz knows this won’t last forever, but she can be sure that it will be one her best memories. Sure, the Doctor has shown her future cultures, past grievances, and all points in between, but nothing compares to the moment of now, holding her close while the sun rises. It’s all the time she could ever need.

“Sounds perfect,” she says, holding the Doctor close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that was a wild ride and a way bigger word count than I expected. Thanks so much to everyone who followed my story to the end! You guys have been so supportive and make me so excited for all the writing practice I've got ahead of me. You're the best! :)


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